Good For What Ails You
by Cantique
Summary: Take out some bullets, stitch up some wounds. Easy, right? Or is this nurse Michael's found for the crew way in over her head? Can she get out of this clean like Franklin keeps telling her to, or will she fall victim to whatever Trevor's planned? I don't even know what I'm doing. Might be sex. I don't even know I just like writing people talking with their mouth words. Send help.
1. Out of the Game

"Back again?"

Katherine smiled, opening her kit as the older, suited up, chubby man stumbled into her living room again. Bleeding from his arm, he gave a grunt as he clumsily dropped onto her couch, immediately shrugging off his jacket.

"Well," he chuckled, giving a smirk and unbuttoning his shirt, "who else is gonna stitch me up and not tell anyone how I look without a shirt?"

"Good to see they didn't shoot your sense of humor." She helped him peel the fabric of his shirt-arm from the bleeding wound, her kit nearby and ready. "I thought you were trying to stay out of trouble, Michael."

"And I thought _you_ were getting a real job instead of-" he stopped to give a hiss as she wiped over the wound to clean it. "...Instead of fixing up troublemakers like me. Didn't you have a job interview or something? I got worried you wouldn't be here when I showed up, thought you might have gone legit again."

Katherine frowned, taking her tweezers from the kit. "Turns out word travels fast in Los Santos. They already knew about - hold still." Quickly, she dug the tweezers in, gripping the bullet and quickly yanking it out, Michael giving a long and anguished grunt. She'd been providing 'cheap, discreet medical assistance' to Los Santos criminals for a while now, and over time, bullet removal had become her thing. "They already knew about my little...habit. May as well have stayed home."

Michael raised an eyebrow at her as she threaded a needle. "Well, you _were_ stealing painkillers from hospital supplies. That's a pretty big mark on your resume."

"I know, I know…" Her stitches were quick. Expert. "It's just frustrating, you know? I've been clean for so long. I've worked so hard and… it feels like I'm stuck pulling bullets out of gang-bangers for life."

"You do the crime, you gotta do the time."

"That's fresh," she laughed, finishing the final stitch and snipping at the thread. "Coming from _you._"

"Hey, I've paid my dues." Michael rolled his shoulder while she arranged a gauze to put over it.

"Sure you have. But if my 'dues' are another 3 years of cleaning up after gang fights, I don't really want to pay them."

There was a silence as she taped the gauze down, something which unnerved her given how Michael was usually pretty chatty with her - unless he had a concussion, anyway. "Hey," she asked. "You alright? Didn't hit your head, did you?"

"Nah," he shook his head, eyes set on the floor. "Just thinking… Kat, how long have I been coming to you?"

She shrugged. "I don't know… maybe… a year now? Ever since your kid got that box-cutting and you didn't want your wife finding out."

"Right. That. ...You trust me, yeah?" He looked up at her, watching her carefully.

"I trust you more than most of the other clients I get, yeah. Why?"

"Look, I… might have a way out of…" he looked around the dilapidated living room, gesturing at it. "This. Might not be clean, might not be legit, but it's a way out."

Katherine hesitated, raising an eyebrow. "What do you mean?" She asked.

"We're doing a job, and we're gonna need someone to patch us up. Hard to find good doctors you can trust around here."

"Nurse," she corrected.

"Close enough." He gave a shrug and pulled his shirt back up, working on the buttons again.

"You're asking me to _directly_ take part in something illegal you're doing?" She asked. "I don't know, Michael. Can't they trace the money back or whatever?"

"It's fine. It'll be washed. I've done this before. All you have to do is be ready to do your thing, you'll get a cut. Won't be the biggest cut, but it'll get you out of this kind of game."

Katherine nodded, but didn't respond, thinking about this carefully, completely unsure of what to do. Michael pulled his jacket back on, rolling his shoulders once more and pulling himself off the couch.

"Look, just think about it, okay?" He said. "No pressure to do anything, but… you've got my number. Give me a call if you want in."

Katherine watched in silence as Michael took his wallet from his pocket, removed a $100 note and placed it on her coffee table before leaving.

She wanted out of this game.


	2. Good and Clean

Nervous. That's what Katherine was. Nervous. Anxious. Full of adrenaline as she listened to the radio with Lester. They'd made a clean break from the jewelry store - Michael's plan had worked, although that was hardly a surprise. She'd always figured he'd known what he was doing.

"Shooter's down," a voice came through. Not Michael's. It was younger. Franklin. Lester gave a sigh, a frustrated '_shit'_ at the news. Lester seemed to get frustrated with a_ lot_ of things, although this one seemed warranted. At least more warranted than his frustrations with _her_, anyway. He didn't like her. At all. Said she was a risk to the operation. Luckily for her, Franklin had jumped in to vouch for Michael's judgement and Lester had been outnumbered on that one.

"Get yourself ready," he grunted, his voice nasal and exacerbated. "It'll be a miracle at this rate if no one gets shot." He began to type away furiously at his computer, "you might get to make yourself useful after all."

She gave a silent nod, rushing over to the small area they'd set aside for her. An exam table and a bench full of medical tools. The light was below what she would have liked, but she wasn't going to complain to Lester of all people, anyway. "We're clear," said a voice from the radio as she snapped on a latex glove - Michael's. "We're heading towards you now."

"Good," Lester sighed into the radio. He glanced over to Katherine, who'd been staring at him with her eyebrows raised expectantly. Giving a sigh, he pressed the button on the radio again. "Any injuries?" He asked as if it was a chore.

"P hurt her knee in the back of the truck and F got shot in the shoulder."

"K's ready for you when you get here," Lester confirmed, albeit begrudgingly. Not missing a beat, Katherine prepared her set up for another bullet removal to add to her long list while hoping Paige's knee wasn't anything too serious. If it was, with the limited resources she had, the best she could would be to dope her up for a day until she could go to a real hospital without setting off any red flags.

Eventually, after much nervous waiting and fidgeting on Katherine's part, the doors burst open, Michael helping Paige limp into the garment factory with an upright Franklin following. If his shoulder wasn't covered in his own blood, Katherine wouldn't have been able to tell he was injured.

"Okay," she began, pointing to the couch. "Put her down there, we'll get the bullet out first. Franklin?" She gestured to the table. "Up here."

Franklin obliged, jumping up onto the table as she instinctively began to clean the wound. "Want anything for the pain?"

"Nah," he shrugged. "Wouldn't be the first time I've got my ass shot."

"Whatever you say, tough guy." Without another word or any warning, she plunged her tweezers into the wound, gripping the bullet tightly and pulling with all the force she could. With a victorious exhale, the bullet came out, leaving her to inspect it as Franklin let out a growl.

"Shiiiiiiiit!" He exclaimed.

"Wow," She gave a little smile as she examined the prize. "That was really lodged in there, wasn't it?"

"No shit!" Franklin exhaled through his teeth. "I only got _shot,_ you know."

"But _I_ thought you'd been shot before…" Katherine's eyes knowingly flickered up to meet Michael's as he stifled a laugh, her needle already threaded and working it's way through the wound. Franklin didn't respond, shifting a bit on the table.

Luckily for everyone involved, Paige's knee _wasn't_ serious. A good cleaning, some bandaging and she was fine. "Just make sure to ice it and take some anti-inflammatories. You'll be fine. You alright to drive?"

Paige gave a nod, gingerly getting herself up from the table and limping towards the door. "I'm out of here. Text me when the cash is through."

"Yep," Michael announced, rising from his seat. "Time for us all to split up."

"Can someone give me a ride somewhere I can call a taxi from?" Katherine asked, tossing her gloves in a garbage basket.

"Taxi?" Michael asked. "You don't drive?"

"Can't. DUI."

"Great," Lester groaned, throwing his head back. "She _is_ a liability."

"Where you headed?" Franklin asked, paying Lester no attention.

"Chamberlain Hill. Just past Crystal Heights."

"I'm heading that way, I'll give you a ride." With a tilt of his head to the door, Franklin headed out, giving Katherine little time to say goodbye to Michael. No matter. He'd probably be back on her couch and bleeding by the end of the week.

Katherine followed Franklin to his car, waiting for him to unlock it before stepping in. It was always strange getting into someone's car. Uncomfortable. She sat still, her hands on her lap, eyes fixed in front of her. She didn't know Franklin well, although he seemed nice enough and Michael had told her things.

As the car rolled forward, Franklin glanced at her, giving a little smile. "So how you know Michael?"

"Uh. He came to my uh…" she searched for the word. "Clinic."

"Oh, you got your own Clinic?" He asked. "Why you pullin' heists, then?"

"It's… not exactly a legitimate establishment."

"Whatta' you mean?"

"Well, I don't have a medical license or anything, for one."

Franklin laughed as he turned a corner and swerved around another car. "Why? What'd you do?"

"Got caught stealing."

"Money?"

"Painkillers."

"Damn." He exhaled. "Hear there's a lot of paper in that."

"Probably." She shrugged and swiped her phone, checking for notifications. "But I was using, not selling."

"Ooh, so like some Nurse Jackie shit, hey?"

"Yeah, except that Los Santos Central doesn't see it as entertaining as Showtime does."

"Shit. So whatta' you do at this uh… clinic?"

Locking her phone, she settled her eyes back on the road. "Oh, you know. I help people who don't want to go to a hospital. Gangs, hookers, criminals in general."

"Hey, wait a second," Franklin chimed. "I think I know who you are! You ever treated Lamar? Lamar Davis?"

"Name rings a bell… but I don't exactly keep medical records."

He gave a chuckle, accelerating and overtaking a bus. "You'd know him if you saw him. Told me he had some white girl fix him up… didn't mention you were a nurse, though."

"Was he implying something else?" She laughed.

"How'd you end up in Chamberlain, anyway?" He asked. "Ain't exactly a lot of clean lookin' white girls round here."

"Couldn't really work a lot while I was getting clean," she gave a shrug. "Had to downgrade. And then money ran out and I had to downgrade again. Rent's cheap, and I guess the silver lining is that there's a lot of people who need my services around here."

"Guess so. How long you been clean for?"

"About a year now. Year and a half."

"That's cool, dog. Know a lotta people who can't stay clean for a week, let alone a year," he smiled, pulling into her street.

"Well, not having access to it all the time helped, I guess. But thanks." She broke her eyes from the road for the first time to actually look at him and shoot a smile at him. For the first time, she noticed he wasn't frowning as he had been before, from concentration. He seemed content. "This one here," she said, pointing to her run down, shack of a home.

"Damn. You living _rough_," Franklin winced. "Maybe when this paper comes through, ya'll can get yourself a better place, hey?"

"That's the dream." Katherine gave a laugh and opened the door, stepping one leg out as she undid her seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride, Franklin."

"Hey, hold on," Franklin set the handbrake and looked her in the eye. "I live a few blocks away, up on Forum Drive. You gimme a call if you need anythin', yeah?"

"Really?" She asked. "That's uh, really nice of you to offer."

"Ain't nothin'. You got my number, yeah?"

"Yeah, Lester put me in contact with everyone."

"Alright, then, like I said, call me when ya'll need me."

"Thanks for the ride, Franklin." Katherine shot him a smile as she stepped out of the car, waving goodbye as she gently closed the door with a click.


	3. Charged Magnets

"Thanks again for this," she said as they came to a stop in the empty living room. "I really don't know the first thing about real estate."

Michael inhaled deeply, clapping his hands together as he visually scanned the floorboards. "I'm no mogul," he began, his voice low so the real estate agent couldn't hear him as she took a call in the next room, "but I know a rip-off when I see one."

"And this?" She asked. "Is it?"

He looked up to her and gave a half-shrug, half nod. "It's not bad. I'd want something bigger, but you don't have to live with my family, either."

"So you think I should apply?"

Michael looked over Katherine's shoulder, a smile suddenly spreading over his face. "Of course you should!" He exclaimed, reaching out and throwing his arm over her shoulder, much to her confusion. "This place is safe, new, clean, warm, in a good location - and I only want the best for my little girl," he explained as he slowly turned her around to face the agent, who had since re-entered the room.

"This is your father?" The agent asked.

"Uncle," Michael corrected, reaching out to shake her hand. "Michael De Santa. Now, Kat here's going to grad school soon and we've been looking for somewhere _just right,_ and it looks like it's down to this one…"

"Well," the agent chuckled. "There _has_ been a lot of interest in the property!"

"Well, this one and that condo in Vinewood Hills…"

"Condo?" She asked.

"Yeah," Michael nonchalantly shrugged at this. "With another agent, all we gotta do is sign on the dotted line but I'm the kind of guy who likes to shop around. I didn't get to where I am by buying the first shares I came across, you know?" He winked at the agent, who gave a nervous laugh. "So," he began, taking his arm from Katherine and moving beside the agent, his voice low again. "What kind of a deposit would we be looking at to secure this place now? The whole application process is… time consuming, you understand? And we're very busy…"

* * *

"I can't believe you did that!" Katherine laughed as they left the apartment building. "You schmoozed me into an apartment! Holy shit!"

"I've done a lot more than schmoozing to get what I want," he chuckled, a proud smile on his face, "and none of it was polite like that."

"I really don't know how to thank you, this is… this is the best thing anyone's ever done for me."

"Eh," he shrugged. "You're alright. What kind of a guy would I be if I didn't help you get back on your feet?"

"Sensible, probably." Beaming, she leant against Michael's car, her arms crossed gently and the sunshine reflecting off her sunglasses. "And I didn't even have to get that job at Pillbox Medical."

"Hey, their loss. Not to blow smoke up your ass, but you're good at what you do."

"Says you. You know what the medical director said?" She scoffed, pushing herself forward and off the car as Michael unlocked it. "He called me trash and said I had zero chance of rehabilitation."

"What?" He asked as they simultaneously opened the doors. "That's bullshit. Now Jimmy, _there's_ a kid with zero chance of rehabilitation. You just hit a road bump."

"I know, right? And then he told me to go back to my 'ghetto rats.' You know what? I'm actually _glad_ I didn't get the job."

"Wanna fuck with his car?" Michael asked suddenly as he started the engine. Katherine took a double take.

"What?"

"Do you wanna fuck with his car? Pillbox Hill isn't far from here."

"Are you serious right now?" She asked, a hint of laughter in her voice, despite the fact she wasn't sure if he was serious or not.

"You sound angry." Michael gave a shrug and pulled out of the park. "I mean, if you want, I can just drive you home now…"

"...Fuck it." Katherine blurted after a short period of thinking. "Not like he's going to hire me anyway."

"Know the guy's name?" he asked, a little smile appearing at the corner of his mouth.

"Dr Laurel Franklin," she replied.

"That reminds me," Michael cut in. "How's Franklin doing? He alright?"

"Yeah, I haven't heard from him. Guessing he's okay." Katherine raised her voice as Michael accelerated, the air rushing through the window at an increasing pace. "Cool guy. Only lives like a few blocks from me."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Told me to call him if I needed anything. Really nice of him."

"Oh!" Michael exclaimed, followed by a laugh. "_That's_ how it is!"

"What do you mean?"

"He wants you to call him."

"Well, yeah, if I get into trouble. He was being friendly."

"No," Michael corrected as he served around a corner. "He was asking you to call him. Trust me, Kat, I might be from a different generation but that kinda thing never changes."

"Pfft," she scoffed. "As if."

"Why not?" He asked. "Aw, come on, don't tell me you're one of those women with low self esteems. I was just starting to like you."

"I don't know. Didn't come across as a guy who'd be into my type."

"Your type?" He asked. "Don't take this the wrong way, Kat, but you're not a type. You're an all-rounder."

"Okay," she laughed as they pulled into the parking lot of the Pillbox Hill Medical Center. "Getting weird, Michael."

"Look, I'm just saying," he explained as he opened his door, the engine still running, "he's a good kid, like you said. Think about it."

Katherine pulled herself out of the car and watched as Michael ran around the back and opened the trunk. "Last time you asked me to think about something I ended up taking part in a heist."

"And now you're gonna trash someone's car," he said, tossing her a baseball bat. "I don't see you complaining."

"How do we do this?" She asked, the both of them approaching the shiny blue Infernus parked in the Dr's parking space. Michael looked to her, then to the car, and shrugged.

"Smash away."

"So like… just… smash the window?" she asked. She waited until he gave her a nod of approval before reaching out with the bat and gently tapping the windshield. Michael gave a snort at this.

"You gotta hit it har-" the sound of smashing glass cut him off as Katherine swung the bat back and drove it into the windshield, shattering it into a shower of little pieces all over the interior, the car alarm beginning to scream. Katherine admired her handiwork, shooting another one of her beaming smiles at Michael before swinging once more, smashing a side window. The hood, trunk, doors and windows were soon victims of Katherine's pent up rage, Katherine laughing and screaming as she worked, and Michael watching almost proudly as she destroyed the vehicle.

"Alright, alright," he finally announced. "Let's get out of here, before… shit." Sirens whirred in the distance, the look the two shared between them speaking volumes. Not a single syllable had to be uttered, the two dashing for Michael's car, throwing themselves in and taking off in a panic, but not quickly enough to lose the cops who were now in pursuit.

"Shit!" Katherine gasped. "Shit, shit, shit."

"Don't worry!" He shouted over their sirens, expertly serving through traffic and past cars that stood in their way. "This is the best part!" The car speed up a hill, becoming airborne for a few moments as Katherine screamed.

The next half an hour was incredible and nothing like Katherine had ever experienced. They drove through red lights, ran over people, slammed into cars and were shot at. Finally, though, it all culminated to the car speeding off a small cliff as they headed up further towards Blaine County. The drop made Katherine's heart feel like it was in her throat at her entire abdomen tensed, the movement seeming to be in slow motion until they landed in a ditch almost expertly with a crash and scrape, her bones jostling with the impact. A few moments of silence passed before the echos of sirens flew past them, none the wiser as to where they'd vanished. The long chase was not over, but it had felt like mere minutes.

Brushing her hair from her face with one hand, Katherine finally decided to break the silence. "Holy shit," she gasped.

"You alright?" Michael croaked, straightening his back and recovering from the impact.

"Fine." Katherine paused, laughing. "Excellent, actually… I feel… I feel…"

"Alive?" he asked.

"Yeah! That! Holy _shit._"

"Adrenaline will do that," he laughed, watching her with a grin. "Feels good, doesn't it? Like you could fuckin' do anything."

She nodded her head quickly, smiling at him and holding his gaze. "Jesus. This is… amazing."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

The two sat there gasping for air for a few more moments, watching each other, eventually breaking out into uproarious laughter at each other's reaction, something that lasted around 10 minutes before the adrenaline pulled them towards each other like a pair of magnets.

A pair of charged, shaking magnets.


	4. Coming Down

_Small chapter, I promise the next one will be more action filled. I don't even know where this is going. Winging it._

* * *

"We're in so much trouble," she sighed, pulling the travel-blanket up around her chest as she stared out of the smashed, greatly damaged sun-roof.

"You're telling me," he agreed, gazing at the same spot as her.

"Aren't you married?"

"Yep." He paused, shifting a bit. "I'm more worried about the fact you're young enough to be my daughter."

"Cool," she laughed. "Make it creepy, too."

"It says more about _me_ than it does about you, trust me." Michael gave a groan and put his hand to his brow, squeezing his eyes shut. "My therapist was right."

"People do crazy shit when they're full of adrenaline. We just… made a mistake. We're fine. We just never speak of this again." She glanced out one of the side-windows. "Ever."

"I like the way you think." Michael paused quickly. "Not because it was bad though, let me make that perfectly clear," there was a little laugh in his voice, like he'd wanted that to act as a joke. "I got a family, though. And Amanda might not care, but the kids…"

"You don't have to let me down easy… or at all..." she interrupted. "I'd be pissed if I found out _my _dad was screwing someone my age."

"I'm sure your dad would be pissed if he found out his daughter was screwing someone _his_ age, too." Michael snorted.

"Somehow, I don't think that'll be a problem."

"Right," He exhaled. "So we're on the same page then?"

"Yep," Katherine nodded, reaching under the blanket to search for her bra. "This was a one-off, we never speak of it again."

* * *

Katherine felt incredibly awkward in Franklin's car.

"Thanks for helping me move," she said, trying to break her own, self-imposed silence. "I uh, well, it all happened really quickly and I didn't really plan it well," she lied. She had. Michael was supposed to help, but she cancelled on him after the 'incident.' They'd been doing an excellent job avoiding each other over the last few weeks.

"Hey Dog, it's nothin'. I meant it when I told you to call."

"Yeah," she laughed. "Guess it's lucky I could fit everything into a trailer, huh?"

"Sure makes it easier only havin' to drive to Hawick once." He gave a snort. "Lucky thing, too, cause' if Lamar found out I was helping you move, ya'll wouldn't be able to get rid of him."

"Who is Lamar, anyway?" She asked. "A friend of yours?"

"Only since high school. Crazy-ass motherfucker, but he's 'aight."

"But he's crazy?"

"Good crazy. You know, ya'll got your bad crazy and your good crazy. Lamar's the good crazy."

"Uhuh… Hey, uh, mind if I turn on the radio?" she asked.

"Go for it."

Katherine reached forward and switched on the radio, and while she wasn't sure what the song _was_ exactly, her attempt at making the car ride less awkward was foiled when the words "_nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga, nigga" _blared through the sound system. She winced a little to herself, thanking god that it was obviously part of the intro, and fidgeted with her hands. 'Could I _be_ any whiter if I tried?' She thought.

"So, Hawick, huh?" he asked, not noticing the aura of discomfort around her at all. "Big change from Chamberlain. You gonna go legit now or what?"

"Legit?" she asked, laughing a little to herself. "Maybe. I'm not really sure what I'm doing with myself now. Lester mentioned the stock market, so I might give that a shot."

"Well, here's hopin' you figure somethin' out. Won't find yourself no thugs to stitch up in Hawick."

"Thanks." She shot him a little smile as they pulled into the parking lot of her new apartment building.

* * *

Luckily for the pair, the move had been easy. The apartment was on the ground floor and Franklin was more than capable of doing the majority of the heavy lifting himself. Having moved in her only table - the dining table - the pair looked at the pile of furniture that had come together in the living room of the apartment.

"Okay," she sighed, relief in her voice. "I think I got it from here. Thanks so much for this, Franklin. Seriously, this would have been an ordeal without you."

"Like I said, it ain't nothin'." He gave a pause, eyeing the pile for a moment before returning his attention to her. "But hey, you know how you can thank me?" He asked. "We gotta hang out some time."

"You… wanna hang out?" She asked. "With me?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"I'm… not exactly cool." She pointed to the box of books on the floor. "I mean, you moved my books in. You know how uncool I am."

"Yeah? So you're booksmart. I ain't seeing no problem."

Katherine eyed him suspiciously for a moment, and while her first instinct was always to say no, she remembered what Michael said. "Alright," she finally agreed, nodding her head. "You're on, then. Text me some time and we'll hang out."

"Maybe I'll give your ass a driving lesson," he laughed as he made his way to the door, "then ya'll can be helpin' _me_ next time I gotta move."


	5. Mr Phillips

_I am so sorry about any typos in this, I wrote the first chunk on my smartphone! Also, I should probably mention I haven't finished GTAV yet. I just finished The Truth Comes Out (I think that's what it was called? You know, where they go back to [place] and soon after, Franklin rescues [person] from [group.]) So no spoilers, please!_

* * *

The next few weeks went by quietly. Franklin _had_ texted her and they'd hung out not once, but several times. Sure, Katherine still had her awkward moments, but she felt a lot more at ease around him, anyway, even if she was hopeless at driving.

It was after one of these driving lessons that Katherine had decided to go shopping. Sub-Urban wasn't really her favorite of stores but she liked their sunglasses enough to make a point of going there now that she had the money to spend. As she was paying for a new set of aviators, her phone rang. Picking it up without caring to check who the caller was, she absently handed over the cash as she said a distracted "hello?"

"Kat," a familiar voice began on the other end, urgency in the tone. Michael. "You home?"

A bit taken aback, she nodded in thanks to the store assistant. "No, but I'm not too far away. Why? What's wrong?"

"I have a..." he paused to give a sigh. "...friend who's had an 'incident' and needs your professional services."

"Is she a hooker?" another man's voice shouted in the background. "You're getting me a lady companion? Oh Michael, how did you know?!"

"Who's that?" she asked, taking her bag and making her way out of the store.

"It's... my friend," he replied, sounding entirely defeated. "We'll meet you at your place."

"Sure," she agreed, waving for a cab. "I'm catching a cab now, I'll be there in ten minutes."

"Thanks, Kat," he said, sounding a little relieved. "I owe you for this." With a short click, the phone hung up as she climbed into a cab.

* * *

When she arrived at her apartment building ten minutes later, Katherine scanned the parking lot for Michael's car, stopping when she remembered that they'd smashed it up. The only real vehicle of note was an old, dirty truck that she'd never seen in the area before, but she was too busy rushing inside to worry about it.

When she entered the building, she was concerned to find that neither Michael nor his friend was waiting for her in there. Sticking her head up the stairwell, they weren't there either. She stood stationary for a moment, trying to figure out where they'd gone, but stopped when she realised the door to her apartment was ajar. Katherine very quickly went from confused to angry, throwing the door open.

"You broke into my apartment?!" She asked Michael, who was sitting on the couch and had visibly jumped a little at her loud entrance. "Seriously?!"

"Kat, I am _so _sorry, I'll -"

"Well _hello, _" a voice said, speaking low, followed by a loud, low breath. The scraggly, dirty, bloody mess of a man in the kitchen caused Katherine to take a step back instinctively.

"Michael, " she asked, not taking her eyes off the figure, who'd helped himself to one of her beers. "Who the hell is that?"

Michael gave a sigh, resting his head in his hands, exhausted. "Katherine, meet Trevor. Trevor, Katherine."

"Michael," he said, slowly approaching her. "You didn't tell me the nurse was so..."

"Trevor," he warned, looking up to watch him carefully.

"What?" he asked, looking back at Michael before turning back to face Katherine. "I can be completely respectful about telling a woman she's... _beautiful."_

"For god's sake, Trevor!" he snapped.

"Alright, fine!" Trevor raised his palms into the air and backed away, slowly turning and moving back to the couch. "What is she, your woman?" Silence spread over the room as Katherine took this opportunity to fetch her medical kit. "Oh." Trevor laugh. "Oh, _now_ I fuckin' get it!"

"The hell are you talking about?" Michael asked.

"She's the _mistress! _" Trevor announced, triumph on his face. "I'm surprised at you, Michael... Well, not really, she _does _look like Amanda without the cocaine habit and fake tits."

"Trevor." Michael's voice returned to its growling warning. "Don't."

"You're right, I'm _sorry," _Trevor said with a sing-song voice. "Amanda was never blonde, she would have made a _terrible_ blonde!" he roared, causing Katherine to visibly jump a little as she finished setting up in silence, everything Trevor was saying making her a mix of fearful and angry. "She never had the peaches and cream coloring of our friend here!"

"Katherine was in on the heist with us," Michael blurted, Katherine noticing that he was flexing his hands in and out in what she assumed was anger. _Awkward_. "She's the person who kept us from having a suspicious hospital record. Show some respect."

"Hey," Trevor threw his palms up again to show his innocence, "I have nothing but the utmost respect for this fine nation's medical professionals. Privatized health care is what kept this country a Darwinian paradise."

"So," Katherine began, finally speaking up, "what seems to be the problem?"

"Actually, you know what?" He quickly cut in. "I'm feeling _fine!_"

"You're bleeding. You don't _look_ fine."

"Just a flesh wound!" He stood up and Michael cleared his throat.

"Tell her," Michael ordered. Trevor looked at the both of them, and noticing that neither of them were playing around, he gave a defeated exhale, sitting back down.

"Got kicked out of a strip club," he sheepishly mumbled, barely loud enough for Katherine to hear.

"And got _shot_ by the security guard," Michael added. "Which is why we can't go _anywhere _with you."

"You were at a strip club?" Katherine asked, her eyes automatically flickering to Michael, not even realizing she was frowning a little.

"Hey, don't go having a lover's spat on _my_ account. I wanted to go and _Michael, _being the _best friend_ he is, accompanied me for an elegant evening of gentleman's entertainment."

"We _aren't _doing that," she snapped, "and you shouldn't be taking married men to strip clubs."

Trevor raised his hand and bit on his fist, making a faux squeak as she pulled on some gloves. "Michael!" He choked. "She's _adorable._ I think I'm in love with her."

"Show me the wound," her voice was monotonous, her patience wearing thin. Much to her displeasure, Trevor lifted his shirt, revealing a decent gash in his side, just underneath his ribs. "...Looks like the bullet just grazed you. You'll need stitches, though."

Trevor scoffed. "You brought me here for stitches? _Wade_ could'a done that."

"Hold still," she ordered, dredging up the special brand of emergency room authority she had left in her. "I have to clean it or you'll get an infection."

"It'll take more than that to clean him," Michael sniggered.

"I can smell that." She was blunt, trying her best to not visibly gag at the smell of him. A mix of urine, copper and something else that, while she couldn't identify, still disgusted her all the same.

"Hey, _that_ is the scent of success, my dear!" He shouted, although Katherine was starting to suspect that was just his regular speaking voice. "Trevor Philips Enterprises," he explained, smirking down at her, the low voice from before returning. "I bet _Michael_ didn't tell you I'm a CEO."

"Michael didn't tell me about you at all, actually," she tossed the swab into the waste-bin and reached for her needles. "I don't know what you think our relationship is."

"You didn't tell your _mistress_ about me?!" He gasped, turning to Michael. "Michael, I am _insulted!"_

"For fuck's sake, Trevor!" Michael snapped, the outburst causing Katherine to flinch. "Leave her the fuck alone, alright?! She's doing you a favor."

"Well, then, I'm sure you won't mind if _I-"_

"I'm seeing someone," Katherine found herself blurting as she pulled through the first thread in his flesh. Crap. _Crap._ She'd just wanted him to shut up, but now she found the both of them looking to her as for an explanation. "And it's _none_ of your business, Mr Phillips, so let's just change the subject, alright?"

There was a pause in the conversation as a satisfied smile appeared on Trevor's face. "Mr Phillips," he repeated. "I like her, Michael, can we keep her? A real professional."

"Hold still, I'm almost done," she sighed, tying the final thread. "Thank god," she murmured.

"I promise I'll make this up to you, Kat," Michael began, scratching at his jaw. "I'll give you some driving lessons, how about that?"

"Oh, Franklin's been giving me some," she placed a bandage over the wound and smiled for the first time since she's come home. "I mean, thanks for offering, but you're a friend, Michael. It's fine. I'm happy to… do… this."

"Franklin?" Michael paused, giving her a knowing smile. "Well, I won't get in the way of you two, then. I'll make it up to you, though." He pointed at her once as a gesture. "Don't know how yet, but I'll think of something."

"You know what you can do?" She asked. "Let me know if any more jobs come up."

"Hey, hold on," he frowned, "I thought you wanted out of the game."

"No," Katherine corrected, "I wanted to get out of the 'letting scary drug dealers know where I live' game. It's not like I have a lot of other choices unless I go to grad school."

"And yet you let _Michael_ know where you live!" Trevor laughed.

"Woah, woah woah, I thought you were going back to college," Michael interrupted. "Get another education, get a job, go legit."

"I'm done with college, I've done my time," she sighed, packing up her kit. "My plan was to move to Liberty City, actually. Find someone who'll hire me."

"And that's not happening because…?"

"Because I found this apartment and I like it here," she eyed him. "What's the problem?"

"_Yeah_, Michael," Trevor asked, joining in. "You _know_ she's seeing someone! Matters of the heart are _just_ as important as matters of career."

Michael looked from one of them to the other and gave a loud sigh, standing up and gesturing for Trevor to follow. "It's your life, Katherine, I'm not gonna tell you what to do with it. I just think you're smart enough to get out of this clean." He nodded to her as he headed for the door. "I'll give you a call when something comes up."

Trevor paused halfway to the door once Michael had walked out, looking to the door and then to her, giving her a dramatic and faux-awkward expression. "_Wonderful_ to meet you!" He exclaimed. "And I... will _definitely _be in touch."

"Trevor!" Michael called from the hall, Trevor following the call immediately. Katherine almost instinctively jumped off the couch, raced to the door and locked it.

What the fuck had Michael brought into her apartment?


	6. Opiate-Induced

Rejection letters. Great.

Katherine had, despite what she'd told Michael, applied for college. Several, actually. However, it seems despite her previous qualifications, no one was interested in so much as giving her an _audition_ for a music degree. Too much competition in Los Santos. That was the reason she gave up the first time and went into nursing. How stupid of her to forget.

Maybe she'd lied a little to Michael. She _did_ want to go to college. Just a little. She wanted to make music. She wanted to learn how. But she also didn't want to set Michael up for disappointment, so she didn't tell him. It was probably best to try and distance herself now, anyway.

The banging on her door startled her a bit, but she had made herself so low so quickly that she didn't even think to ask who it was, assuming it was some religious missionary to try and convert her again or something. The second Katherine opened the door, though, she knew she'd made a mistake. Urine, copper and that _other _smell. Trevor had come calling.

"_Hello_ gorgeous!" He announced, pushing the door open further and forcing his way into the house. "You up for a little adventure today? Oh, of course you are. You _always_ are! I can see it in that face!" He reached out, grabbing both her cheeks between his fingers and pinching them. Instinctively, she pulled back, wiping her cheeks, shuddering a little bit.

"Jesus, no." She murmured.

"Come on!" He urged, nudging her with his elbow. "There's a _lot_ of cash in it."

"No."

"I'll let you ride shotgun."

"No. Get out of my apartment."

"Katherine - can I call you Katty? Kitty? Kitty cat?" He asked, not waiting for her to respond. "Lives at at stake, here. I need _your_ skills! I'll owe you a favor, and _trust_ me," he smirked, "I am a _very_ good person to ask for a favor."

Katherine shut her eyes. He was right. Why else would he come to her if it wasn't for medical needs? She couldn't shoot, she couldn't even drive. She was useless otherwise. "Fine. Fine!" She relented. "Let me get my kit."

"Won't need it!" He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her out the door, barely giving her enough time to shut it. She stumbled along to the car, not entirely sure what she was in for, stopping only for Trevor to open the passenger side of the truck for her. "Ma'am," he said, gesturing to the seat as she hesitantly climbed in, Trevor shutting the door behind her before running to his side of the truck.

"So what are we doing?" She asked, grimacing when she realized there was no seat-belt available as the truck began to pull out of the driveway.

"Tell me," he began, speeding out of her street, "what do you know about _ketamine_?"

Katherine stared at him, her mouth agape. "Are you serious?!" She shouted over the near-unbearably loud engine. "I'm _not_ helping you make ketamine!"

"Kitty Cat, _please!_ As if I'd ask a lady to dirty their hands in drug production!" He laughed. "No, no, no. I need someone who could, say, walk into a hospital pharmacy and find the medicinal ketamine in a short period of time."

"Trevor," she growled.

"Hey, _hey!_" He interrupted. "What happened to 'Mr Phillips?' Don't tell me we're getting personal now!"

"Trevor, I'm not a chemist and I haven't been to a hospital since I got fired from Los Santos Central. I can't just walk in… oh god. You're going to actually rob it, aren't you?"

"Yup!"

"With guns and everything."

"You bet!"

"Does Michael know about this?" She asked, giving a defeated sigh.

"We don't have to tell Michael!" He replied, swinging around a corner. "This can be our own little business venture. Think of this as me subcontracting you for Trevor Phillips Enterprises. Now, tell me more about you working at a hospital, because this is _very_ relevant to my interests."

"Jesus christ," she sighed, running a hand through her hair.

"I'm _listening._"

"I used to work at Los Santos Central."

"_But?_" He asked.

"But I got fired."

"Yes but _why?_" He asked her, his words quick and his tone aggressive. "_Why_ did you get fired?"

"I was stealing and taking painkillers, okay? Jesus christ is _everything_ an argument with you?"

"_There_ we go!" He roared triumphantly. "I _knew_ there was a reason you ended up with our little rag-tag syndicate."

"It was a long time ago," she explained, crossing her arms. "Happy, now?"

"As a _clam," _he smirked, swerving around another corner. "Los Santos Central it is!"

"Wait," she blinked, "what?"

"You used to work there, _you_ know the layout!"

"You told me all I was doing was picking out the ketamine!" Katherine shouted.

"And I'm right. As soon as you show me where the drugs are kept, you'll go in there and pick them out for me."

"Them? I thought I was getting ketamine!"

"Ketamine and an assortment of _other_ pharmaceuticals. It's okay, I have a list,' he assured her, the car giving a bounce as he mounted the curb.

"I don't know how to shoot a gun!" Katherine blurted, panicking.

"And that's _fine," _Trevor cooed, tucking a pistol into the waistband of his pants. "You won't need to. We're going _in_ quietly. All you have to do is walk in there with me and let _me_ be your…" he gave a grunt. "Knight in shining armor."

Katherine opened her own door and carefully let herself down from the seat. "You are disgusting and insane," she said bluntly. "Let's just do this, okay?"

* * *

"This is such a bad idea," she whispered to Trevor in the elevator. "The worst idea. Ever. In the world."

"Trust me, Kitty Cat," Trevor chuckled. "I can come up with _much _worse if I want to."

"Please don't." She spoke quickly as the doors opened. Level 4. Her old ward. She knew the layout of this place like the back of her hand. Silently, she made her way through the halls, Trevor following. No one stopped them, and luckily for her, no one had recognized her yet either. She seemingly breezed through the 'staff only' door, and thanked god that no one had seen them enter. All that stood between them and a room full of drugs was a small, digital lock.

"Okay," Katherine sighed. "I just need the pass co-" With a smash, Trevor had taken the butt of his pistol and smashed the console in, the door unlocking with the loss of power. "...Or we can do that."

Katherine pushed open the door and reached her hand out. "List. Now." Within moments, a piece of what looked like a napkin was in her hand, the list being about 15 items long. "Trevor, what the fuck? This isn't even a few things. This is… this is a shopping list. But with drugs on it."

"Well, then, good thing we're in a room full of drugs, huh?" He pointed to her handbag. "Toss 'em in, come on."

Adrenaline seizing her once more, Katherine obliged, throwing open cupboards and tossing open drawers, haphazardly throwing unknown amounts of boxes of drug off the list into her bag. Ketanest, tramadol, oxycodone, morphine and even cold and flu medicine. All of it. Boxes and bottles and vials went into her handbag. "I think I got everything," she murmured, zipping her bag closed. "Let's get out of here."

Before Katherine could notice it, Trevor had kicked the door open with extreme force, knocking out a doctor who was about to enter. "Come on," he grunted, grabbing her by the arm again and dragging her out of the room and into the hallway. Not caring for their low profile anymore, the two legged it through the hospital and into the elevator, Trevor pushing a patient out and frantically pushing the 'door close' button.

"Get behind me," he ordered, taking preemptive cover by the panel of buttons as the elevator worked its way down the building. Katherine eyed his hand on the handle of his gun, and decided it wasn't smart to argue. With one arm touching the wall behind him and another prepared to drag his pistol, he'd cornered her into cover - not a totally bad thing in this situation.

The elevator announced its arrival with a 'ping' sound, and Katherine held her breath for what seemed to be the eternity it took for the doors to open. She braced herself, her eyes squeezed tight waiting for gunshots - but there was nothing.

"Come on," Trevor muttered, tapping her arm again. "Act casual. We just need to get to the truck."

"There's security at the door," she said through gritted teeth.

"It'll be _fine_," he whispered. "They don't know anything's wrong."

As if they'd been listening, an alarm began to sound through the hospital, the once zoned-out security jumping back to life, hands on their weapons, looking around for trouble. Already halfway out the door, the two began to sprint for the truck, Trevor's pistol ready for action.

"_GET IN_," he roared at her as the two security guards spoke into their radios, eying the two. She threw open the door on her side, climbing in with such haste that she scraped her leg on the edge of the rested metal before she could close it. Trevor, on the other hand, had just chosen to step on the foothold and leap clear over the door as the security guards approached. Putting the accelerator to the floor, the two sped off, driving right over the small garden that separated the parking lot and the road. One hand on the wheel and another holding the pistol, Trevor reached over and fired a warning shot towards the hospital.

Speeding around the corner, the wind swept through Katherine's hair, the adrenaline in her system not allowing the pain from her leg to fully register. "You right?" He asked as he swerved past a bus.

"Yeah," she shouted. "I'm fi-" She was cut off then the side of the truck clipped into another car, throwing her against the dashboard with a thump, her upper arm taking the brunt of it.

"What about now?" He laughed, accelerating away from the crash as she peeled her upper body from the dash. "You are gonna be _concussed!"_ He sang as they flew down the highway.

* * *

She sat on her couch, the shock starting to subside, her arm arching and turning black in one spot, her cheekbone bleeding as her head span. The skin on her leg burned, and washing the grit from it had only intensified the sting.

"Well," Trevor shrugged. "You're the nurse so I'm not gonna tell you how to look after yourself, but you're going to need -something- for that pain..." He emptied the contents of her bag into a plastic one he'd found on her kitchen. Without another word, he shuffled to her kitchen, returning with a beer and two capsules. As she took the capsules in her hand, she looked up at him curiously. "Paracetamol. It'll take the edge off," he explained.

Katherine nodded, throwing them back into her mouth and using the beer to wash it down, against her better judgement. "Thanks," she croaked.

"Surprise!" He cackled. "It was oxy! Thought I'd help give you a little kick."

"W-what the fuck?" She asked, blinking heavily. "You… but you know that…"

"Hey. You just rest your little head," he instructed, pushing her down onto the couch, "get some rest and enjoy that lovely, mellow, opiate-induced euphoria that I _know_ you love. You'll thank me later."


	7. Rum Runner

Katherine was back on the wagon.

She gazed at herself in the mirror. One dose. That was all she'd needed. One single dose. Now she had Trevor on speed dial and was avoiding everyone, even Franklin. She'd been on standby for the last job they did, something about a submarine, but she'd fallen asleep well through that, and when she'd woken up all she had to show for it was a text message from Trevor explaining that the job failed. No one got hurt, no one got any money. Not even her.

In any other frame of mind, she'd have been suspicious of Trevor's generosity. However, he'd yet to ask for anything. "It's all part of me repaying you for the favors you've done for me," he'd say when he delivered her a packet. The only condition was that she never told Michael he was giving her oxy. Katherine didn't care. She was bored, depressed, and still in a bit of physical pain, to be honest - although that could have been denial on her part. She couldn't tell anymore. 

The next few weeks went in and out and days blurred. Take oxy. Watch TV. Sleep. Wake up. Eat. Sleep. Wake up. Take more oxy. Usually it went something like that.

One one of these days, not long after waking up, Katherine checked her phone for the first time in two or three days. 7 missed calls in the last day. All from the same number. "Michael…" she mumbled.

Not entirely sure what was going through her head, Katherine rolled out of bed, pulling on the first clothes she could find from her floor that didn't smell. She knew where he lived. She knew he had a wife and kids and it'd be a bit weird, but she had to see him, even if it meant, as she discovered, walking in the rain to Rockford Hills. If anyone could make her get her shit straight, it'd be Michael.

As she powered her way there, her hoodie quickly becoming soaked, she conceived her story. A friend of Franklin's. Franklin would vouch for her, and her seeing Michael would make sense if she could make it seem like there was trouble. Hell, she could even pretend to be his girlfriend if it made his wife feel better long enough for him to take her… somewhere. Back to her place. His therapist. A parking lot. Anywhere that he could and, no doubt, talk some sense into her. Stable, clearheaded Michael.

Sheepishly looking around as she entered the pedestrian gate, she wasn't really surprised by how nice the place looked. Million dollar house, at least. Of course, now she knew how he could afford it, but he was still a man who had his shit together. He had a family, a house, a plan - and for some reason he _seemed_ to care about her, at least a little bit. It was him or Franklin and… that didn't seem right. He thought Katherine was _fun._ Fun girls don't have relapses into opiate addiction after one dose and then vanish.

_Oh god._ She was at his door now. Soaked top to bottom. High as fuck. Nothing in her pocket but another packet and her cellphone. She pushed the button on the doorbell, hearing the buzz from the other side of the glass, and held her breath. _Please don't let his daughter answer. Please don't let his daughter answer. _

"Kat?"

Her eyes opened. To her relief, Michael was at the door, but he didn't… look right. He looked tired. His hair was messy, his stubble had grown out a bit, his shirt was wrinkled and had something spilled on it. It was 6 at night and there wasn't a sound coming from inside.

"I…" she struggled to collect her words. "I got your messages."

The two stared at each other in silence for a moment.

"Amanda left me and the kids went with her." He confessed.

"I'm back on oxy." Katherine joined in.

Another long silence passed, the both of them not moving, but not looking eachother in the eye.

"Guess we're both fucked then, huh?" He finally asked.

"I thought you'd tell me to quit."

"Why would I do that?" He asked, gesturing for her to pass him and enter the house as he stepped aside. "You're an adult."

"I… I don't know." She shrugged, standing in his entry-way. "I… thought you'd talk some sense into me."

"Me, talk sense into you?" He snorted. "Look at my life," he gestured around, leading her into the living room. "I got a big fuckin' house with no one in it, my son's fuckin' useless, my daughter hates me, my wife…" he stopped himself, inhaling and shaking his head. "I'm hardly in a position to offer you life coaching."

"Why'd she leave?" Katherine asked suddenly, subconsciously wringing at the cuffs of her hoody sleeves. Michael, who was half way through muting the TV, paused, eyeing her carefully.

"Not because of that," he replied. "She ran off with her Yoga instructor," he said 'yoga' with a twinge of disgust. "Never found out about… that."

Katherine gave a nod. "Good."

"Not that she really would have cared," he exhaled as he collapsed down onto the couch. "But, you know how it is." He paused. "Well, you don't. You're not married. If it comes up, don't marry Frank," he advised, patting a spot on the couch with his hand, inviting her to sit.

Sitting down, her body buzzed at the softness of the upholstery. No wonder his shirt was a mess. She'd _never_ get out of this if she had the choice. "I don't plan on it."

"Good. Ages you about 20 years." He turned up the TV, but only a little. "How'd you get the oxy?" he asked.

She took half a second longer than usual to respond, formulating a response. "Lots of people in Los Santos selling their prescriptions. It's easy if you want it bad enough."

"Of course. Sometimes I forget what it's like here." He reached over to a glass of whisky, taking a sip, his eyes settling on the screen.

"What're you watching?" Katherine asked.

"Rum Runner," he replied. "One of the best, the golden age. Vinewood when it still meant something." He glanced at her. "You ever seen it?" Katherine shook her head and he smiled, turning the volume up. "You'll love it. Trust me. Real twist of an ending from back when they used to know what a _real_ twist was."

So, the two of them sat in the empty house, in the dark, watching a movie from a time that meant something. And over the course of that movie, Katherine somehow found herself cuddled up against him. She didn't see the end of the movie. Neither of them did. Somewhere between the wandering hands and rhythm of each other's breathing they ended up making another huge mistake.


	8. Charity

They spent the next two days drowning themselves in their own vices.

She was constantly high and he was always drunk. They rarely rose from bed, not even to smoke, and when they did decide to venture into the rest of the house they left a trail of destruction wherever they went. The only food they ate - if they remembered to eat - was whatever they could have delivered, and they'd eat it out of the containers on the couch as they watched movies. Old movies. The classics. She rarely stayed awake long enough to see the end of them, but Katherine was sure that Michael enjoyed her company enough even when she was asleep.

Or rather, she hoped he did, anyway. A voice in the back of her mind told her every now and then that she was there for mostly sex and Michael's ego. Maybe she was the last thing holding that ego together. She wouldn't believe that, though. He was too together to break like she had. This was just a road bump for him. Before she knew it, he'd be back to his old self and he'd fix everything.

"I want to go for a swim," she said on the third day, dipping a fork into a box of last-night's noodles, perched on one of the kitchen benches, sitting open-legged as she watched him open a beer. "It's beautiful outside."

Taking a swig of his beer, the open-shirt, short clad figure eyed her carefully. "Take a swim, then." He shrugged.

"I don't have a swimsuit, though." She shot him a cheeky smile, biting her fork between her teeth. She was being honest, too. She didn't bring any extra clothes with her. All she was wearing on that kitchen bench was the white tank top she'd rolled out of bed in two days ago and her boy leg briefs - the camo print ones. Michael had laughed and called her GI Jane when he saw them the first time.

"We got a tall fence," he slowly approached her, the sound of his bare feet peeling from the tiles rapping through the kitchen. "You can swim without one."

She laughed, setting down the box of noodles on the counter next to her before bracing her hands against the white bench-top as he stopped in front of her, positioning himself between her legs. He brushed a hand against her knee as he set down his beer beside her, his hands finding their way to her hips and giving a firm squeeze. "That," she began, ducking away playfully from a kiss, "would be _horrendously_ unladylike."

"And since were _you_ ladylike, huh?" He asked. His head moved to the side, instead choosing to attack her neck with his affections, her laughter turning quickly into short breaths and a moan, one hand reaching up to the back of his neck and the other sliding over his shoulder, her nails grazing the fabric as his hands' grip on her hips tightened.

"Hello?" A voice called from the front, the door creaking open. "Yo, Michael, you home?" The two of them let out a simultaneous 'fuck' as they jumped off each other, Michael taking a step back and Katherine springing herself off the bench, looking desperately for a way out of the kitchen that wouldn't involve her being seen.

"Shit," he murmured under his breath, looking to Katherine and then to the corner that Franklin was no doubt around. Katherine, thinking quickly, stumbled to the back door, not saying a word to explain her plan as she slid it open, sprinted over the grass and jumped into the pool, the splash loud enough for all to hear. A confused expression on his face, Michael didn't take his eyes off her. "Yeah!" He shouted back. "In the kitchen."

Franklin entered, looking just as confused by the splashing noise as he was. "Ya'll got a guest?" He asked, trying to see who was under the water in the pool, his eyes squinting against the sunlight.

"Yeah, Kat's over," Michael explained, impressed by her quick thinking. It was times like this he felt like she was completely cut out to be a career criminal with some polishing. "Wanted to swim."

"Kat?" Franklin asked, stepping towards the window to get a better look. "Damn, homie, I thought she'd skipped town," he sounded a little angry as Michael joined his side, watching as Katherine reached out from the side of the pool and pulled a random towel someone had left outside closer to the edge - which was lucky, because there was no way, in his opinion, that tank top she'd been in would have gone anything but see-through when wet. "Where the hell she been?" He asked.

"You tried calling her?" Michael suggested, trying to play it off. "Sometimes when I text her she never gets back to me."

Franklin didn't respond, just giving a nod as the two of them watched her wave to the new guest and walk inside, the towel wrapped around her as if nothing was out of the usual. "Hey, Franklin!" She called, smiling very convincingly as she approached the sliding door.

"Where the hell you been, Kat?" He asked her, shaking his head slightly. Her face dropped as she crossed the threshold of the kitchen and Franklin continued. "I've been callin' your ass for _days_."

She leaned against the bench, reaching for a glass to fill with water. "Sorry, I've been pretty busy…"

"Busy?" He repeated. "Girl, I thought you'd bailed and left town. Or worse."

"Well, hey," she shrugged. "Here I am. I'm sorry I made you worry. But I've been fine. Just had a quiet few weeks, lots of redecorating in the apartment and-"

"Now I know that there is _bullshit,_" he interrupted, "'cause I been to your house two times in the last two days to check if you been home. So, to get back to my original point, where the hell you been?"

A silence set in over all in the kitchen, Katherine looking to Michael as if to ask him for help, thinking that they'd been busted. After waiting for Michael to say something, which he didn't, she looked back to Franklin. "Look, Franklin-"

"She's back on oxy." It was Michael cutting her off this time. "She showed up here two days ago strung out as the worst of them. So I let her in and she slept in Tracey's bed for the whole damned day.." Katherine had to bite her lip to hide the relieved expression that was attempting to show on her face - something that didn't take much of a challenge when she realised Franklin was genuinely concerned.

"Aw, shit, Kat," he sighed. "I thought you was clean."

"I just… relapsed. It happens. Sometimes," nervously stammering she avoided looking Franklin in the eyes.

"Well, what the fuck do we do now?" He asked, looking to Michael. "Can't have her ass running around high all the time."

"Are you proposing that we do something?" Michael asked, raising an eyebrow as he passed Katherine to retrieve his beer. "Kat's an adult. She can make her own choices."

"Yo, man, she's sick, I mean, look at her face," Franklin gestured to her and she raised her hand to her cheek. There was still a cut there from Trevor's driving. Shit. "Ya'll lookin' out for me, figured we was lookin' out for her."

Michael gave a snort and took a mouthful of some of his beer, giving Katherine a side eye that made her feel exposed. She'd been out of the pool for a while now and despite the nice day, being in wet clothes had left her feeling a bit cold. "I got enough of my own problems right now, kid. We _all_ do." His voice has a tone of warning to it, and Katherine couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to scare Franklin from this line of thought.

"Pfft," Franklin shoot his head, "yeah, whatever dog." He caught Katherine's gaze, tilting his head towards the entrance. "C'mon, Kat, get yourself changed and I'll give ya'll a ride home." He took a step back to leave, shooting a glare at Michael. "Wouldn't wanna trouble Mike with our problems, would we?"

* * *

"How high're you right now?" Franklin asked as they cruised along the street, Katherine's window rolled down all the way so the cool air would pummel the heat-flush away from her face. "Be honest."

"Um." She paused, weighing up the benefits of lying. It didn't matter, though. Franklin wasn't an idiot. He knew now, what was the point of lying about _that?_ "Pretty."

"Ya know, if ya'll was strung out, you shoulda' called me. I woulda come got you."

"Franklin," she sighed, "that's sweet, but I-"

"But what?" He asked. "You went MIA for two whole days. I woulda' at least let people know you were alive."

"I'm not charity," she snapped, feeling groggy, the two day binge starting to catch up with her.

"Oh, and showin' up on Mike's doorstep lookin' for a bed ain't charity?" He laughed. "C'mon, Kat, you seen what it's like where I'm from. Don't get back into that."

"Into what?" She asked. "They're prescription drugs, not heroin."

"All junkies start somewhere."

"Fresh, coming from you." She held her breath as soon as she finished speaking, shocked she'd said that.

"The fuck is that 'sposed to mean?" He asked, giving her the side-eye. "If anything, ya'll should be takin' me as an example. I used to throw up gang-signs and shit, sure, but I ain't now. People can change, Kat." The car began to slow down, Kat having to take a moment to realise the palm trees lining the square parking lot were her _building's _palm trees. She was so spaced out she'd barely realised they'd been driving.

"Franklin… why are you…" she paused as he turned off the engine, choosing her words. "Why do you care about this so much?" She asked. "I mean, it's like Michael said, you've got your own problems to worry about, right?"

Franklin watched her carefully, eyeing her, sizing her up. "I got my own problems, sure, but I still got homies helpin' me out. Payin' it forward. 'Sides," he reached out and opened his door, "ya'll remind me of someone I went to highschool with. Wanna try'n stop that from happening again."


	9. Employment

It had been a week or two since she'd come back from Michael's and something felt _wrong _when Katherine woke up that morning. Her bed felt too hard. Ridgid. And it was hot, sunny, but she still felt cold. Wind? Wind. Why was there wind? Had she left a window open? And where was that music coming from? What was that smell?

Stale urine, gasoline, sweat, copper….

Her eyes snapped open and she let out a sudden gasp. She wasn't in her bed, or even her apartment. Trevor's truck. Speeding down the highway, Trevor grinning at her from the driver's seat.

"Good _morning_, Starshine!" He roared as she sat herself up, her movement jittery and confused. "Sleep well?"

"What…" her voice was shaken. She looked down. She was still in what she'd passed out in, her jeans and tank top. No bra. Shit. _Shit._ She crossed her arms across her chest suddenly.

"You sure do go hard on the oxy!" He laughed. "When I came to pick you up you were dead to the world! You were lucky it was me and not someone less..._respectful_ of you."

"What the hell is going on?" She asked, looking around the truck and trying to figure out where the hell they even _were._ "Where are we going?!"

"Blaine County!" He announced, a smile on his face, proud and triumphant. "Trevor Phillips country! You'll love it."

"Why?!" Her voice raised in pitch, her heart rate starting to calm after the shock.

"Given… recent events and the activities your associates have undertaken, I've decided, as the responsible older male in your life, that it was time for you to relocate for your _own_ safety. Congratulations on your employment with Trevor Phillips Enterprises!"

"What are you even talking about? Take me home!" She demanded.

He gave a chuckle. "No can do, Kitty Cat. You're a liability now! And _besides,"_ he paused, glancing at her. "As your new boss, I've already made plans for you. Backing out now would be _rude._"

"Trevor," she stopped to inhale, trying her best to swallow her anger. She _hated_ being angry. She hated anger in general, which was probably why she didn't seem to see whatever Michael saw in Trevor. "I'm serious."

"Awww," his voice took on a faux tone of anguish. "I'm _hurt_! All I'm trying to do is protect you from the FIB and whatever they've got planned."

"The FIB?" She repeated. "What does the FIB have to do with this?"

"Well, _I_ was coming around to give you more of that oxy you love so much - out of the goodness of my heart, _might I add_, - and I caught their people snooping around your building."

"Why the hell would the FIB want anything to do with me?" Her eyes widened. "Oh god, is this about the job?"

"In part." He tossed his head from side to side. "But mostly because _we'vebeenworkingforthem._" He spoke so quickly she barely even caught what he said. "_But_ that doesn't matter now, because you're moving to Blaine County, where it's going to be nice and safe and _very_ productive for you!"

"You've been _what?"_ She asked. "Working with them? What? That doesn't make sense."

"I _know,_ that's what I told _Michael,"_ he agreed. "But they just don't take no for an answer, like men, eh? Eh?" He nudged her and waggled his eyebrows, "Right, sister?"

"Jesus," she sank back into her seat, her anger subsiding a little. Trevor had saved her? It was getting this deep? "I guess I should be thanking you…"

"Don't you worry about it," he assured her, pulling onto a dirty road, the dust rising above the sides of the truck as they hit just about every bump on the track. "You're like the daughter I never _had, _like Frank and Michael, " he shot her a smile, sending an uncomfortable wave over her. "Michael gives Franklin life advice and I give _you_ drugs! The world turns and then one day we die. The end." He slammed on the brakes, the truck sliding to a stop in front of a fenced off trailer. "Welcome home!" He announced.

"This is where I'm living?" She asked.

"Casa De Phillips!" He kicked open his door and leapt down, seemingly ecstatic about the current situation as he sprinting to the other side of the truck to open her door for her.

"Wait, Phillips?" she asked as she carefully climbed down from the truck. "I'm living with _you?_"

"It's here or the FIB hotspot, Kitty Kat," he explained, placing his hand on her back in an attempt to guide her to the trailer entrance. She instinctively pulled away, arms still crossed to cover her chest as they approached.

"So what are you making me do now?" She asked.

"Your new _job_," he corrected, "is helping me help the people of this fine, all American land."

"How?" She asked, her voice blank as he they walked up the steps of the patio to the trailer. She was expecting the worst. "I'm not sleeping with anyone."

"Woah," he stopped in front of the door, turning to her and placing his hands on her shoulders at arm's length, his grip enough to stop her from pushing him off as he looked her in the eye. "Katherine, I may be a businessman, but I _respect_ women. I respect _you._ I would _never_ ask that of you." He paused, a look of genuine empathy on his face. "Unless you wanted to, in which case I would make _sure_ that you became the _best _lady of the night in the County." He let go of her. "Do you want do?" He asked, pointing to the door of his trailer. "Because sweetheart, I can find you work _right away, _sucking _all_ the dirty cop and redneck cock you could ever want."

Her face scrunched up, her nose crinkling at the thought of it. "Ew," was all she could manage as he opened the metal door of the trailer, the hinges giving a loud creak as they passed through the threshold.

"No, my dear," he announced, triumphantly strutting his way to the fridge as she took in the glory of his living space. It was _filthy. _The floor gave a crunch as she stepped, covered in everything from ash to old morsels of food. The ceiling was like a Picasso painting of various colored stains, ranging from smoke stains to the entirely unidentifiable. His table had an assortment of junk on it, including ammunition, a gun, a bloodied knife, about five or six asthma inhalers, a hammer, some pipes, burned spoons and an array of empty beer cans and bottles - and the small kitchen bench was no better. Luckily for Katherine, though, the trailer didn't smell like Trevor did, which she'd expected. Instead it just smelled like dust and ash, with the occasional whiff of stale beer every now and then. "_Your_ job will be helping me and my associate, Ron, distribute our fine products to the people of Blaine County."

"What?" She asked. "Why the hell do you need _me_ for that?"

"You have innate knowledge of prescription medicines, Kitty Kat," he explained as he whacked the bottle cap off his beer on the edge of the kitchen bench. "And we just so happen to be expanding our market beyond our adoring, meth-loving tweaker niche`."

"I can't believe this," she shook her head, a small laugh in her voice. "Don't you have someone who makes your meth, then? I don't understand why you need me."

"It's _simple business,_" he stressed, his eyes rolling a bit, obviously frustrated that she was questioning him rather than agreeing with him. "_We_ want to start selling prescription drugs to the housewives of Blaine County for _exorbitant_ prices. _However,_ we don't know how much is too much, or too little to keep them satisfied. Oh, _sure_, we can _get _the drugs, but you know how they _work _on _fat_ people and how they work on emaciated tweakers."

"So you just want me to tell you how much every person needs to get high?"

"_Exactly!_" He raised his beer, victorious. "We sell less to people who need less, but _just enough_ that they get high, and sell them _the same amount we would_ to people who'd need a 'standard' dose - and vice versa. Do you get it _now?_ You keep _them_ satisfied and you save _us_ money."

"Guess I don't have a lot of choice," she sighed, defeated.

"Aww, come on, it'll be _fun!_" He assured her as he leaned against the counter and grinned. "You, me, Ron, loveable tweakers and all the oxycodone you could possibly want!"

Katherine stood in silence for a moment, her eyes set on the view outside of one of the windows as she concentrated on weighing up her options. In all honestly the mention of oxy made her core tighten a little in desire, and she'd rather be pushing drugs for some psychopath than in jail for a heist. It really seemed like her options were limited. "Fine," she exhaled. "But I want to call Michael first."

"No!" Trevor threw his arms out, gesturing for her to stop. "You _can't_ contact Michael."

She raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"His uh," he paused for half a moment, barely two seconds, "_your_ phone is probably bugged right now! You don't want them to track down Michael, too, right?" He asked. "_I'll_ send him a message for you while _you_ keep off the radar. That way _he_ knows you're safe and can pass that on to your boy Frank."

He quickly reached into his pocket, removing a card of capsules and tossing them to Katherine in what looked like a hurry. She knew what it was as soon as she caught it. Oxy. Trevor pointed to the card in her hand and then to her. "Dose up," he encouraged, stopping to take a swig of his beer. "This party starts _now._"


	10. Burned to the Ground

_Okay, this one comes to a weird end and I know that, but I couldn't fit all of what I wanted in this chapter without it being far, far too long. Think of this as chapter 10.1._

_Big, huge thanks to **PhoenixFlame6** for their amazing, really constructive feedback and also to everyone who's left reviews so far. It's what keeps me going through these stories, so keep them coming, haha._

* * *

It didn't take long for Katherine to get accustomed to Blaine County life. Trevor returned to Los Santos not long after he'd set her up, so for the most part she had the trailer all to herself. Sometimes she'd attempt to clean up, but thanks to the oxy naps she'd been taking, she could only manage to get it to something liveable.

For the most part, however, Sandy Shores wasn't actually _that_ bad. She enjoyed the heat, and for the most part it was very solitary spare for when she had sales to make or Ron stopped by. Ron himself was a nice enough guy. Paranoid and a little loopy, but he was friendly and often came by to just chat. Katherine got the feeling that Trevor never really called on Ron unless he wanted something from him, which was why he had so much to talk about whenever he came over.

The rest of her time was spent either sleeping or playing an old guitar she'd found under the kitchen sink for some reason. Judging by the blood on the body of it and the few superficial cracks, Trevor had probably used it to bludgeon someone at some stage, but with a bit of cleaning and re-tuning it was just as playable as the one she had at home.

One afternoon, however, her routine of eat, dose up, sleep, deal, play guitar, dose up, repeat was broken when she received a phone call from the man himself. "Kitty Kat!" Trevor exclaimed. She'd learned quickly that if Trevor was excited, she needed to be ready for bad news. "Need you to come into the office right about… hmmm… _nnnnowish." _He said nothing else, the phone clicking as he hung up, frustrating Katherine to her core. She took a deep breath, reaching into her cheap, thrift-shop bra she'd acquired and removing a valium tab. She liked to keep them in there ever since Trevor had introduced her to taking them. Meant she always had them with her when she needed them.

She threw the tab into her mouth, throwing her head back and swallowing it dry, hoping that the calm, mellow feeling would arrive sooner rather than later. While oxy was her first love, she'd quickly discovered that valium was a close second. It quelled her anger, extinguished her frustration and calmed her anxiety - meaning she didn't have to worry about having an outburst of rage.

After sweeping the remainder of the unsorted tabs into a small container and stowing them away inside, she re-emerged from the trailer and straddled the quad bike that had randomly appeared by the trailer one afternoon. Ron didn't seem to know where it had come from, but it wasn't a longshot that Trevor had probably stolen it for her so she had something to drive to the office and Stab City occasionally. She sped away from the trailer, no helmet, no care for any 'rules.' Being in 'Trevor Phillips country' brought a special feeling of lawlessness with it.

As she approached the 'office,' she spotted something unusual. An extra two cars - ones that certainly didn't look like the kind of cars you found around here. They had guests. _Shit._ All she was wearing was what she'd managed to find at the thrift store - a muscle tank that was way too big for her and probably belonged to some redneck before it found it's way to the thrift store, the cheap, black bra she'd bought as soon as she'd found the place and some very short denim shorts that she was _positive_ someone would have paid twice of what she had for in Los Santos. While she thought it was a nice enough outfit for someone who was dealing drugs out of a trailer, it wasn't exactly something she wanted to be seen in by strangers - especially as she wasn't even wearing shoes.

She pulled up by the side of the building, next to some of the cars, and shut off the engine, suddenly very pleased with herself for deciding to take the valium when she did. As she felt her bare feet hit the dirt, she heard the sound of a car door open. Great. She was going to meet whoever it was visiting before she could even let Trevor make it a bit less awkward. Excellent. As she passed the car, she kept her eyes cast downward, hoping they wouldn't try and talk to her.

"Katherine?"

She froze. That voice. She knew _that_ voice. "Michael?" She asked, turning around and eyeing him. His expression threw her off, being one of… she wasn't sure _what_ it was, but it was like he'd seen a ghost.

"Jesus _christ,_" he almost sprinted towards her, urgency in his actions as he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms, gripping her as if she was about to vanish. "You're okay. _Fuck."_

"Holy shit," she laughed, her palms against his chest as she rested her head against him, the initial shock subsiding. "Jesus, Michael, I thought Trevor messaged you."

"Messaged me?" He asked, finally letting her go, not taking his eyes off her. "I thought you were _dead_, Kat."

His words hit her like a ton of bricks. "Dead?" She asked. "What?"

"Your apartment building burned down, to the fuckin' _ground,"_ he explained. "You and three other people went missing. You didn't pick up your phone, me and Frank fuckin' looked _everywhere_ for you. We thought someone had-"

"Burned my apartment down?" She asked. "Who would have done that?"

"We got a lotta enemies, Kat," he reached forward, taking the aviators from her face. "Anyone could have seen you with us. Hell, could have been some random psycho for all we knew." He paused, shaking his head. "Why didn't you call?"

"I didn't have my phone," she explained, speaking slowly as her drug-addled brain tried to process all of this. "I left it in my apartment."

"Well then where've you been?" He asked, seeming angry all of a sudden, making Katherine automatically tense up.

"Here," she replied, her hands balling up at the tension that was appearing. "Trevor came and got me after he caught some FIB guys near my apartment building. He said it was too dangerous there and that he'd…" she trailed off, stopping when she realized what had happened. Katherine gave a long exhale, reaching up to the bridge of her nose and pinching it between her fingers. "Trevor said he'd message you." Her anger was building up past a point even the valium could contain now. "And he _didn't, _for what seem to be _obvious_ reasons."

There was a brief silence between the two as they processed this before Michael spoke again, putting a hand on her shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze. "Hey," he said, his voice softer than before. "At least you're alright. That was the last fuckin' thing I needed on my conscience." Waiting for her to remove her hand, he leant in and kissed her brow, his free hand finding her waist and resting on the curve as she instinctively stepped closer.

"I've missed you," she whispered, raising her arms up and hanging them over his shoulders, realistically just happy to see a familiar face. "As much as I can miss an old man, anyway."

"A few weeks in the desert and all of a sudden you're giving me shit," he laughed. "You know, maybe I should take you back to the city and get you assimilated with civilisation agai-"

"Well isn't that just fuckin' _great!?"_ A voice bellowed from the balcony area of the office. "I should have _fuckin' _known!" Trevor shouted from the railing as he ran for the steps, his arms tense in rage. The two pulled away from each other, Katherine's heart rate speeding up as her insides tensed. _Shit, shit, shit._ He'd seen them.

"Hey, Trevor," Michael said, raising his palms up in innocence and stepping in front of her, "look, buddy…"

"Not _only_," he shouted as he reached the bottom of the stairs, closing the distance between them as Katherine spotted Franklin hesitantly making his own way down. _Double shit._ "Did you _lie_ to me, but she's _young enough to be your daughter,_ you _sick fuck!_" Somehow, despite her fear of him in this rage, Katherine felt he was being a bit dramatic about this, even for Trevor.

"I'm 24," Katherine snapped over Michael's shoulder.

"And how old is Tracey?!" Trevor asked him.

"That doesn't matter, this is all just a-"

"_Say it._" He growled.

Michael looked to Katherine, then back to the fuming figure in front of them. "...22," he sighed. "She's 22."

"Jesus," Katherine exhaled, running a hand through her hair.

"Two years!" Trevor roared. "_Two._ You _do not_ take out your mid-life-crisis bullshit on _my employees!" _He began to pace. "The poor girl has a _drug addiction, _for fuck's sake! And I thought you had a _shell_ of paternity left in you."

"Only because _you_ gave me the oxy in the first place! No, wait, sorry, you _tricked _me into taking it," she shouted over Michael's shoulder, her eyes widening as soon as she ended the sentence. _Uh-oh._ She shouldn't have said that. Trevor's eyes, full of what could have easily been murderous rage, settled on her. She _definitely_ shouldn't have said that.

"Woah, hold on," Michael, raised an arm, gesturing for quiet. "Is that true?"

Trevor tossed his head from side to side, avoiding any eye contact with either of them. "Mmmaybe." He rolled her shoulders, his pacing speeding up. "Fuck! Alright. _Yes._ I _did._ And look how fuckin' happy she is!"

"Oh, right," Michael snorted. "And you're going to give _me_ a lecture? Why would you even do that in the first place?"

"Because I wanted to _fuck_ her, Michael!" He screamed, throwing his arms down and causing her to flinch. "I wanted her bent the the fuck over the hood of my truck and calling me Daddy, and I thought getting her high enough _might_ open that fucking window for me! But I'm allowed to want that, because I'm a _fucking psycho!_" He stopped in front of Michael, pointing at him, breathing deeply. "You?" He growled. "You're soft. You're some fuckin washed up, sad, depressed, middle-aged has-been who still wants all the _fuckin' benefits_ without doing _any_ of the fuckin' work!"

"Let me know what exact part of the work included getting our friends hooked on opiates." He retorted.

"You ran a fuckin' prostitution ring!" Trevor roared once more before pointing to Katherine. "And you were fuckin' worried about _me_ whoring you out!"

"You _burned my apartment down_!" Katherine couldn't believe this.

"Allegedly!" He corrected. "Did you really want the FIB going through your underwear?"

"Speaking of the FIB," Franklin spoke, reminding almost all of them that he was even there, watching the whole thing transpire, "we got company, yo."

A back, shiny, out-of-place looking car pulled up in front of the building and Trevor glanced between the vehicle and Michael. "Come on," he turned and made his way to the stairs, waving for them to follow, his body still hunched in unwarranted rage, a visibly uncomfortable Franklin in tow.

Michael gestured for Katherine to walk beside him, his hand on her back, guiding her along. "We'll sort this out later," he said, leaning in with his voice low. "Just keep quiet around these FIB guys and let me do the talking."


	11. Bottom Bitch

_Haha, so, turns out I'm a moron and thought Franklin was in this scene in the game. He wasn't. I tried my best to work around that but whatever, it's fanfiction, regular rules of the universe don't apply and you're not even my real dad you can't tell me what to do._

* * *

"Rip it open! See what's there, baby! 'Cause I'm fuckin' ready!"

They'd hidden Katherine out of immediate view on a couch behind a segment of still-standing wall to try and keep her from their guests, Franklin sitting beside her as she drifted in and out of another opiate-nap. The couch was probably the least filthy thing in the 'office,' which managed to surprise her every time she was in there. Today it smelled particularly like urine and a lot less like chlorine and rotting fruit, but the amount of flies inhabiting the corners of the place hadn't changed at all.

Trevor and Michael's arguing had kept her from staying asleep for long, though, and although she wasn't sure why they were screaming at eachother, she was pretty sure it was something she didn't understand or that didn't actually matter - especially considering that there was an FIB agent or two outside taking a phone call right now.

"Hello?" Another voice asked, further away. "Woah, ladies, ladies, what's up?" The unfamiliar voice jolted her awake, sitting up straight on the couch and shooting a glance to Franklin.

"Fuck off!" Trevor shouted.

"Listen!" A third voice. Older. Stern. There was silence, the sound of pacing and flies. "I'm sorry," the voice continued, having secured order, "but we have a problem. Government funding thing, we need you to err… _investigate_ a research lab up-state."

"It's about terrorism," the first of the unfamiliar voices added, "the big one. Nerve gas. Biological terror."

"Thank god I don't pay tax," Trevor sighed as something creaked.

"Now listen, you'll need some fairly standard gear." The first voice spoke frankly, as if this was a briefing. Katherine couldn't help but wonder just how _much_ the FIB had been working with them. "Boat, tandem rotor heavy-lift helicopter, truck, weapons. You'll have to source all of that." Michael gave a laugh as he continued. "Chopper alone will set you back a couple of mil."

"Hell, no worries there," Michael spoke now. "Trevor here, he just came into a lot of money."

"Is that _sarcasm?_" Trevor asked.

"Oh, you're fuckin' A-Right it's sarcasm, you fuck!" Michael spat back, the sound of more footsteps following. "I was happily retired, sulking by my swimming pool, and my psychotic best friend shows up out of nowhere to torture me over mistakes I made - _honest_ mistakes I made over a _decade_ ago! We, our little posse, are flat fucking broke, but hey, let's go out and spend two millions dollars on a tandem rotor fucking chopper so I can go steal nerve gas from fucking terrorists!" His voice was progressively getting louder. "Forgive me, you ignorant _fuck,_" he shouted, the venom in his voice making Kathering visibly wince, "but sarcasm is all I've _fucking got!_" There was a brief pause. "Sarcasm, and and a room full of you cunts!"

"Yes!" Trevor cheered. "Whoo! Welcome back, man! It is the old you!" Trevor began to applaud. "And all it took was some half-your-age blonde!"

"Speaking of which," the sterner of the two new voices interrupted, "we've got to talk to you about this…" he paused, letting out another 'err' as he tried to find the right words, "new associate of yours." Katherine's heart began to pound in her chest. They knew about her. Trevor was right. _Shit!_ "Is she in or not?"

"What does that matter?" Michael asked.

"Because we need to know if she's a liability or a resource."

"We know she knows about this," the other voice snapped, "and you know what? We know she's in here right now, you think we didn't see her follow you in here? So why don't we just ask her and get it over with?" Katherine froze, glancing at Franklin as if to ask him what to do. "Come on out, sweetheart!" He shouted. "Don't be shy!"

Katherine exhaled and ran a hand through her hair. "Shit," she murmured, moving to stand. Franklin grabbed her arm to stop her, but she merely pulled away, raising her palms to him in defeat as she turned the corner, joining the fray. She looked at the two FIB agents and then to Trevor and Michael, giving a shrug and exhaling, not saying anything.

"Hel_lo_ there!" The younger of the agents cooed, stepping towards her, his arms opened with a grin on his face. "If they'd told me selling meth and robbing banks pulled this kind of tail, I might not have joined the academy!" He closed in the distance and slung his arm around her shoulder, guiding her further into the room. "Now, you can't _really_ be running around with these two old creeps," he laughed. "So why don't you tell us the _real_ reason you're here?"

"Hey," Michael warned him as Katherine immediately shoved him off her, tensing her entire body as she side-stepped him off.

"Don't touch me," she winced, a visible look of disgust on her face.

"You're right," he laughed, "how rude of me!" He gestured to the older man, who seemed incredibly exacerbated by his partner's behavior, "this is Agent Norton and I'm Agent Haines - although I'm sure you _already_ knew that - but you can call me Steve, sweetheart." He gave her a smirk as she avoided eye contact, nervously and awkwardly stepping back from him.

"Jesus, Haines," Norton finally said, "give it a rest."

"I'm just _trying_ to be polite to our associate's… let me guess," he looked her up and down quickly before pacing in a circle, his fingers stroking his chin, "driver? No, no you lost your license, isn't that right? ...Hacker?" He guessed. "Maybe, anyone with an iFruit can hack into a bank account these days. Oh, _or,_" he stopped his pacing, clapping his hands together and giving another grin. "Good old Mike here's getting the prostitution racket going again and _you're_ the… what do they call it now?" He asked, directing his question at Michael. "Is it a top or a bottom bitch?"

"_Haines!_" Norton warned, his voice loud as Katherine eyed Michael's hands flexing in and out again.

"Hey," he threw his hands up. "Just trying to get to know our new friend."

"I'm a nurse," she mumbled in the hopes that it'd make him stop talking, her eyes settling back downwards. "That's all I do."

"We know," Norton assured her. "We've been doing our research." Katherine shot a glance to Trevor on hearing this, who simply mouthed 'I told you so' at her. "And now that it's clear you're… involved in all of this, we need to know if you're willing to co-operate."

"Co-operate?" She asked, much happier to speak to him than his obnoxious partner. "What do you expect me to do? I can't even shoot a gun."

"Well then you'd better learn, sweetheart," Haines snorted.

"Hold on," Trevor cut in, stepping forward and gesturing for his turn to speak. "You seriously expect Kitty Kat here to help you with your corrupt FIB shitfight?!" He asked. "Look at the girl," he picked up her wrist and used it to hold her arm out. "She's practically helpless, what, with Michael here praying on her and-"

"For god's sake, Trevor, let it go already!" Michael shouted, before looking to Haines and Norton. "You two leave her out of your bullshit, alright? You already got the three of us, what can she seriously have to offer? If anything, and no offense here, Kat," he said, gesturing to her as Trevor dropped her arm, "she's just gonna slow us down."

"You know, I've always found it charming how you think you're calling the shots here, Townley," Haines sneered, rolling his shoulders. "Either she's available for whatever we might need her for, or she's a loose end - and you and I _both _know what'll have to happen to loose ends, right?"

"Are you threatening me?" Michael asked in a growl.

"I'm threatening _her._"

"Stop," Katherine finally blurted, her eyes closed and her hand running down her face. "Just… stop. I'll help you out or whatever it is." She squeezed her eyes as she heard Michael give a loud, angry exhale.

Norton Gave a nod, his face without any identifiable emotions. "Good. We'll be in touch."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, well we gotta go, it's been great," Haines announced, moving past all of them, "but Dave here's got a pilates class. Now remember, ladies," he turned a little to look as them as he walked away, "you keep us _waay_ out of this thing. Bye-bye!" He left the building, Norton following him silently, not speaking so much as a word as Michael leaned against one of the tables.

"Jesus fucking christ," he said, shaking his head as Trevor began to pace. "Alright. I'll give Lester a fuckin' call. He said he knew about something."

"And you tell him that we're driving towards Paleto Bay," Trevor ordered. "Get in the car."

As Michael left, not stopping to say a word to anyone about anything else, Trevor stopped and turned to Katherine. "When we get back, I'm teaching you how to kill a man." She wasn't sure if that was a threat, warning or if he was offering to help her, but he followed Michael quick enough for her to not try and find out.

This left Katherine standing along next to the cooking equipment in a silent room that had been filled with shouting less than five minutes ago, feeling a bit bewildered. She scratched her arm, trying to fully grasp what she'd just gotten herself into.

"You 'right, dog?" Franklin asked, the sudden noise making her jump a little as he appeared from behind the corner.

"Yeah," Katherine spoke quietly, giving a nod. "Yeah, I'm fine."

"Sounds like ya'll in deep now, huh?"

"Well," she gave him a little smile and shrugged. "They're not going to kill me now. I can't really complain."

"Yeah but, shit, what they gonna' ask you to do, anyway?" He asked. "No offense, dog, but ya'll ain't exactly-"

"You guys?" She suggested, cutting in. "I know. I just make sure you guys don't die. Don't really know what they expect me to do."

"Hey, maybe they just tryin'a scare you," he offered.

"Maybe."

"Look," he stepped over an exposed bit of leftover wall-frame, "seein' as you ain't got no apartment right now, if ya'll ever need a place to stay, Lester just hooked me up a big-ass place in Vinewood Hills. Got a spare room for ya'll if you want it."

Katherine eyed him hesitantly for a moment before giving him a smile. "Wow, Franklin, that's really generous."

"Hey, look, dog, don't mention it," he said, shrugging her praise off. "I mean, I know Trevor says you happy out here, but I gotta be honest, dog - it don't seem like you."

Katherine gave a nod. "You're…" she gave a deep inhale and exhale, looking around the meth-lab they called an 'office.' "Not wrong. And I mean, the FIB have me in on this now, not like I'm hiding from anyone anymore."

Franklin suddenly reached out, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Hey, Kat," he began, getting her full attention. "I mean it. They just tryn'a scare you. All they gonna' ask you to do is keep yo' mouth shut. Ya'll gonna be fine."

"You really think so?" She asked. "Because it really just seems like everything's getting out of control. Fast. I mean, how long ago was I in some run down apartment minding my own business? Now I'm selling oxycodone to rednecks out of a trailer."

"Ya'll gonna be alright," he reiterated. "I got your back."


	12. One Damaged Woman

_Well, I'm an idiot. I've messed up the order. Again. For some reason I thought this was before the Madrazo stuff went down but nope. Oh well, let's just wing it! Fanfiction, wooo! This is pretty much a fluff chapter, I finished the game tonight though so I'm buzzing with feelings._

* * *

"The hell is this?"

Katherine had been half asleep on the couch in Trevor's trailer when the door kicked open, the metal crashing and hinges screaming as Trevor charged through, an elderly woman in his arms. Despite the fact her hands and feet were bound, a piece of tape over her mouth, she looked relatively calm, which was probably the most unnerving thing about the situation.

"Katherine, Patricia," he announced, setting Patricia down on the couch with a gentleness Katherine didn't even think he was capable of as Michael appeared in the doorway. "Patricia, Katherine!" He ripped the tape from her mouth, the red-headed woman not saying anything. "Patricia's going to be staying for a bit."

"Uh…" Katherine erred, pulling herself off the couch. "Okay."

"She'll need the couch," he added, grabbing a knife, slicing through the bonds on her wrists, not even so much as looking at Katherine. "Kicking you out for a while, no hard feelings."

Katherine blinked, looking to Michael, who just gave an exacerbated shrug. "What?" She asked. "Where am I meant to stay?"

"Not my problem, Kitty Kat," Trevor replied, leaning down to free Patricia's ankles.

"You _burned my apartment down,_ you can't just kick me out!" Katherine argued, stopping herself before she pushed her luck, which she had learned quickly wasn't something you wanted to do with Trevor.

"You're a smart girl," he began, tossing the knife on the bench, "and I've given you _all_ the tools you need to survive in the wilderness! If anything, you should be _thanking_ me for this _character building _exercise."

"You took me out to shoot raccoons!" She corrected. "That's not going to help-" Katherine paused when she felt a hand on her harm, giving a gentle squeeze.

"There's a motel about five minutes away," Michael assured her. "We'll rent you a room there."

"Ohohoh," Trevor chuckled, "I'm _sure_ you _will_."

"Oh fuck off," Michael snapped, tugging on Katherine's arm. "C'mon, Kat."

"Fuck did you just say?" Trevor asked as the two of them made their way outside, pursuing them, anger in his face.

"You fuckin' heard me," Michael didn't let go of her arm until he got to the car, one that she couldn't help but notice was nothing like the last one she saw him in. He lead her to the passenger's side door, opening for her and letting go of her arm for her to climb in. "We'll talk about this later," he warned his partner in crime as he walked around the hood of the car, getting into his own side and slamming the door shut. Katherine watched Trevor carefully as Michael pulled out of the small yard around the trailer, dust ripping into the air as he sped off.

"I'm sorry about Trevor," he said, his eyes fixed on the road, visibly angry. "What the _fuck_ was he thinking?"

"I still don't understand what's happening," she began, twisting in her seat to look back and watch the Trailer vanish behind them in the distance. "Can you _please_ explain what's going on?"

"You ever heard of Martin Madrazo?" He asked. Katherine shook her head and he inhaled deeply, trying to stay calm. "Crime boss. The jewelry store job? I was paying him back for… long story. Anyway, that's his wife."

"He kidnapped his wife? Why?" She asked. "You guys didn't mention anything about a kidnapping."

"Because Trevor is psychotic, _that's_ fucking why." Michael paused, glancing at her as he turned a corner. "Sorry, this is just… _such fucking bullshit._"

She nodded a little, taking it all in. "So now what?"

"We go into hiding, that's what," he replied. "Madrazo will fuckin' kill me if I go back home, so I'm fuckin' stuck out here until I figure a way outta' Trevor's magnificent shit show."

Katherine gave a sigh, not knowing what else to say, and for a few minutes there was nothing else said, the only sound in the car being that of the classic rock radio until the car pulled to a stop outside of the cheap motel. He turned the engine off and ran a hand down his face in frustration as Katherine pulled the handle of the door, opening it ever-so-slightly.

"Hey," he said before she could move her leg to step out of the car. "I'm sorry you got caught up in all this."

Katherine smiled and shook her head. "It's fine. I mean, I'm not the one getting shot at."

"Yet," he added. "And look, if you don't wanna speak to me again after this, I understand. It doesn't have to be awkward. When this is over we just say goodbye, go our separate ways and-"

"Michael," she cut in, reaching out and resting her hand on his arm. "If I didn't like you enough to hang around, we wouldn't be here." She exhaled and shook her head. "I mean, I don't know how this is going to end up, but it's like…" Katherine paused, searching for the right words. "At least I've got you here, right?"

There was a silence, but not one as tense as previously. Eventually, Michael, opened his door, stepping out. "C'mon, let's get you checked in," he offered. "Might be nice for you to shower in a place that doesn't have maggots in the corners."

* * *

It came as no surprise to her that he ended up staying the night.

"You must be one damaged woman," he chuckled as she nestled into him at god-knows-what hour of the night. Sleep had been infrequent, the two of them being so paranoid that the slightest sound from outside would awaken them. For all of Trevor's flaws, at least Katherine could rest easy when he was in the trailer.

Katherine laughed. "And just what is _that_ supposed to mean?" She asked, glancing up at him and making out his face in the dim light of the muted, dated television set they'd left on.

He gave a smirk, peeking down at her a little. "The term 'daddy issues' comes to mind…"

"I'll have you know I had a normal childhood," she protested. "Spare for the dead parents, but my grandmother was a _lovely_ woman," she said with a smile on her face.

"Dead parents, huh?" He asked.

"Car accident and cancer," she explained. "I was like, tiny, though. Don't remember it." She paused, a grin spreading on her mouth. "Come to think of it, they'd be about the same age as you right now…"

"Hey, remember when you gave _me_ shit for making it weird?"

"What about you?" She asked, wiggling onto her torso so she could have a better view of his face. "Michael De Santa… no, wait…" she paused. "What'd that guy call you?"

"Townley."

"Michael _Townley,_" she corrected herself, "greatest criminal in the country. What exactly shaped _you,_ hmm?"

"I didn't have the opportunities everyone else got growing up," he explained, pausing as if he was leaving something else. "So when opportunities came up, I took them."

"What was your first job?" She asked.

He laughed, brushing some of her hair back from her shoulder. "You my therapist now?" He asked. "Because I _definitely_ prefer you over the one I got."

"Just curious."

"Carcer City, '88," he replied. "Bank job. Made 10 grand."

She smiled. "You've been doing this a while, haven't you?"

"Longer than I'd like to admit. What about you?"

"I've never robbed a _bank,_ unless you count me cleaning you guys up afterwards."

"Hey, you get to ask _me_ personal questions, I get to ask _you._" He paused, thinking for a moment. "When'd you start on the pain meds, huh?" He asked.

"God…" her eyebrows knitted together as she tried her best to remember when it actually _happened._ "I was about 20, still a student. Pulled something in my back the same day I'd broken up with my boyfriend and had graveyard shift. One of the post-grads gave me some oxy, just to get me through the shift, you know?"

"And let me guess," Michael mused. "The buzz made you feel less upset and you kept taking it?"

Katherine shook her head. "Not really." She paused. "Actually, no, kind of. It chilled me out," she explained. "I was angry, and I just… hate being angry. Anger in general."

"And you lived with Trevor?" He gave a snort. "That must have been a fuckin' picnic."

"I've been so high the last few weeks," she laughed. "You have _no_ idea."

"So what do you hate so much about being angry?" he asked. "Not like it's always a bad thing."

"I just... Look, I'm not giving you a sob story, but from my experience? Anger ends in someone beating the crap out of you. Scares me."

"Fair enough," he shrugged as she rolled back around, resting her head on his chest. "I just figured you ain't an angry person."

"I try not to be," she said, closing her eyes, finally managing to drift off.

He was gone the next morning.


	13. Initiation

Katherine was shocked when she returned to the trailer to meet with Trevor - not at the fact Patricia was there, but at how _clean_ the place had become. The floor no longer cracked and the walls, which fa from white, were no longer caked in _something._ The dishes were done for the most part, the tables clear and the couch no longer looking as though it was a sponge containing every liquid known to man.

"Are you making her _clean_ for you?" She asked, glancing at the woman who was happily reading a magazine at the table. "Seriously, man?"

Trevor rolled his eyes, giving an audible groan as he tossed - or, rather, _threw_ - a box of oxy at her. "_A bah bah bah are you making her clean for you?"_ He mimicked, his voice high pitched. "_She's a hostage, not a housemaid buh buh buh_, god!" He shouted. "You sound _just _like Michael! What are you, one of those pagans than steals a part of whoever you fuck's soul? I will have you know," he waved his finger at Katherine, glancing to Patricia, "that Patricia here _insisted,_ isn't that right?" He asked her. Patricia smiled at the two, giving a nod and licking her finger to turn the page easier.

"Right," she shook her head, not even trying to make sense of that. "I got your message. What's up?"

"I'm taking you shooting," he said, matter of factly. Patricia gave another smile, not looking up from her magazine.

"Such a kind man, so good to his friends," she sighed, turning the page once more, eliciting a proud smile from Trevor. Katherine was visibly and deeply unsettled.

"Okay then," she shrugged, confused. "I thought we'd shot all the rats around the office?" She asked as Trevor strode past her and to the door. She followed, glancing at Patricia as she exited, who seemed rather unfazed by it all.

"We're not shooting rats this time," he announced, leading her to yet _another_ unfamiliar car. "We're going game hunting."

"Aren't we taking your truck?" She asked, opening the door and climbing in and watching Trevor start the engine. "You know, to get the deer back?"

"Nope." He reversed, the sound of something bumping in the back as he did so making her jump a little. "_Trust_ me, Kitty Kat," he smirked as he sped down the dirt road, "I know _exactly_ what I'm doing." He turned up the radio, smiling to himself as some Johnny Cash song or another blasted through the car, drowning out her questions and causing Katherine to resign to being quiet.

Eventually, they pulled onto a small outlook by the bay, Trevor shutting off the car, the radio abruptly turning silent. "Here we are!" He announced, nearly jumping out of the car, eager to get started. Katherine looked around, not entirely sure how she was meant to go game hunting _here._ Before she could question him, however, Trevor opened the trunk of the car, reaching in and lugging something out. "C'mon," he grunted under it's weight, dropping it on the ground with a _thud._

It was a person. Bound and gagged, bruised and bloody, the man looked up at the two of them, his eyes wide, covered in sweat.

"Trevor…" was all she could manage, her heart pumping. Katherine had an idea where this was going.

"Caught this one snooping around the trailer," he began as he took a shotgun from the back seat of the car. "Azteca," Trevor handed her the shotgun, eyeing her for a moment. Katherine stared back, and after a moment he gestured to the man on the ground. "Go on."

"You…" she paused, taking a deep breath. "Want me to kill him?"

"No!" He announced loudly, that same roar in his voice that he got when speaking to Michael. "No, I…" he suddenly became calm, his voice softening. "I uh, brought you out here so you can give him a _lecture_ about the importance of personal _fucking_ space!" He threw his hands up scowling and stepping back. "Of _course_ I fucking want you to shoot him!" He screamed. "I just gave you a _fucking shotgun!_"

"I don't think I can kill someone," she stammered. Katherine tried to hand him the shotgun back, but he merely took another step away.

"Of _course_ you can," Trevor's shoulders and arms dropped by his side, his face softening, looking almost sorry for her. "Kitty Kat, _honey,_ your whole _life_ has been leading up to this!" He approached her, throwing one of his arms around her shoulder and walking her closer to the now sobbing man. "You made friends with murderers, you moved _in_ with a murderer, you're _fucking_ a murderer - so obviously," he looked down at the wriggling body, "_becoming_ one is just the next step on your road to enlightenment. So here's what's going to happen," he said, reaching out with one arm and lifting the hand that held the shotgun up to her eye-level. "You're going to point this at that," he said, tilting it towards the Azteca, "and put some bullets in it. Then we go back, I give you a beer, you fuck my best friend and we call it a day."

"Why are you doing this?" She asked, her throat feeling dry.

"Think of it as initiation," was all he said as he moved her finger to the trigger. Katherine stood there silently for a moment before she felt her lip quiver, her legs begin to shake. Was she doing this? Was she actually going to do this?

Another few moments passed before she let out an exhale. "I can't do it."

"Do it," he growled.

"I can't!" Her voice raised a bit.

"_Do it._" Trevor's voice matched hers now.

"I don't want to!"

"_Fuckin' do it!_" He roared, her body tensing up.

She took a sharp, deep breath, her fingers pulling back, her shoulder being pushed back from the recoil, and in that instant the Azteca was dead - his brains splattered all over the dirt, the blood rushing from his head, nose and mouth at a rate she'd never even seen anyone bleed before. She didn't recall hearing the gunshot, the loudest sound of them all being the splash from the gush of fluids she'd sent flying.

Katherine doubled over, jumping back and dropping the shotgun as she screamed, horrified by what she'd done. Giving a victory cry, Trevor grinned, casually reaching down and grabbing her by the very base of her hair, his grip tight as he pulled her head back up to face his body. "Would you _look_ at that?!" He cackled. "Perfect headshot!"

"Let go!" She screeched, reaching up and clutching his arm. "Let go, let go!"

"Oh no!" He growled. "I want you to _look_ at this. _This?_ This is what we _do,_ _Katherine_. Me, Michael and Franklin." He yanked her upwards so she was standing fully, pulling her against him so he was breathing into her ear. "And from now on, you fuckin' do it, too."

With that, he pushed her away, letting go of her as she gave a bewildered stumble, her hands on the back of her head where he'd gripped her.

"Get in the car," he ordered. "Welcome to the club, _baby._"


	14. The Most Wanted Man in America

_Well. This was an uncomfortable chapter for me to write.  
_

* * *

"FIB called, told us to have you on call after this nerve gas shit."

Franklin had been trying to hold a conversation with Katherine for fifteen minutes as she sat on the porch, a beer in her hand, watching the road. While she admired his dedication and patience, she wasn't in the mood to chat - in fact, she hadn't spoken much at all since Trevor's little 'hunting' trip with her.

"So I mean, hey, maybe this ain't gonna be so bad for you after all."

Katherine took a swig of her beer, her eyes transfixed. "Maybe," was all she could really manage. She was half distracted, in truth, her mind had been anxiously replaying the incident in her head, trying to think of ways she could have done it differently. When it wasn't giving her a replay, she was worrying about the future. Would it be easier now that she'd gotten the first out of the way? Was that how it'd work?

"Hey," Franklin's voice turned low as he leaned in, his elbows on his knees. "You okay, dog?"

Katherine gave a blink, his voice snapping her out of another loop. "Yeah, I'm uh, fine. Thanks."

"You sure?" He asked. "'Cause you're all quiet. Like somethin' happened." Franklin gave pause, eyeing her lack of response. "I seen that look before," he observed. "What's up?"

She tapped her nails against the bottle rhythmically, her eyes breaking from the road and glancing at him before they quickly averted away, watching her own hands. "I killed someone." She finally admitted, her voice almost a whisper. She quickly flickered her vision to him - his eyebrow was raised and she looked back down, chewing on the inside of her lip nervously.

"Shit, dog," he exhaled. "Really?"

"I mean," she stammered, "I know you guys do that every day and it's just a part of this-"

"Woah, woah, woah," Franklin held his hands out, gesturing for her to stop. "We do, sure. But that's _us,_ girl," he gestured to himself. "That's the fuckin' lives we got. You? Whole different life, dog." Franklin leaned back and let out a long exhale, his hand to his brow. "Why'd ya'll do it? Didn't think you was the killin' type."

"Trevor…" she stopped herself from using a word that implied force. He hadn't forced her, unless you counted shouting. She could have taken steps. She could have died herself instead. But she hadn't. "Wanted me to."

"Ya'll murderin' people now just 'cause T _askin'_ you to?" He asked.

"No. He just… I don't know why. He was shouting and the guy was on the ground and…" Katherine ran a hand through her hair. "I did it. Don't ask me why."

Franklin didn't speak for a good minute, studying her carefully as she nervously fidgeted with the wrapper on the bottle and continued chewing her lip. It wasn't hard to see that she wasn't coping as she hoped she would, the bags under her eyes a dead giveaway to the lack of sleep for those who were oblivious to body language. "Living with T done a real number on you, hey?"

"Yeah," she agreed, whispering just in case he was back from the mystery trip to Paleto Bay he'd taken with Michael. "Yeah, it has."

"Look, dog," he straightened up a little in his seat. "Why don't ya'll come stay with me? That room I told you bout still free if ya'll want it."

Katherine paused, watching him carefully. "I don't know…"

He laughed, shaking his head. "I ain't implyin' nothing if that's what you're thinking, dog, I just wanna make sure you alright."

"You really want to offer me this?" Katherine asked. Franklin smiled at her, giving a bit of a laugh, reaching around with his left hand to scratch at the back of his right arm.

"You always there to pull a bullet or some shit outta' me," he remarked. "Just returning the favor, dog."

After studying him silently for a few minutes, Katherine threw her head back, giving a large exhale, her shoulder visibly relaxing. "Thank _god!_" She exclaimed. "I miss Los Santos. I never thought I'd say that, but I do." She shot him a smile, beaming from ear to ear. "Thanks so much, Franklin, I mean it. Really. When can I move in?"

"Whenever you want, dog," he gave a shrug. "Ain't like no one else there to kick out or nothing."

* * *

Whenever Katherine wanted happened to be later that afternoon, before Michael and Trevor had even returned from Paleto Bay. She didn't want to deal with the confrontation that would no doubt ensue, and she assumed that if Patricia delivered the news to Trevor he'd be much less angry about it. Not say he _wouldn't_ be angry, but he wouldn't wind up on a rampage over it.

Luckily for her, she only had enough things to really feel a backpack or two, and Franklin was kind enough to bring her back to Los Santos there and then when she asked.

"So, you doin' okay?" He asked as he watched her make the bed in the spare room that she now claimed as her own. Franklin's house was incredible, incomparable to the places you'd find in the Strawberry area. It also looked like it'd been barely touched, and she couldn't help but wonder if that was how busy they'd been lately helping the FIB out.

"Great," she smiled, tucking a sheet under the corner of the mattress. "I mean, look at this place! Moving on up in the world."

"I mean 'bout what happened," he added. "Trevor. You popping someone."

Katherine didn't stop making the bed, but her expression visibly changed from excitement to contemplation. "I don't know." She replied. "Trevor acted like it was something I _had_ to do, like a rite of passage or something." She shook her head, dropping a pillow on the head of the bed. "I think he might have been right, though. You three do it. I should at least be capable of it."

"Like I said before, dog, we been livin' differently to you. Like, I ain't sure 'bout T and Mike, but I always been seein' that. It's been a part of life for me, you know? We _always_ been killers, but you're..."

"A white girl from the suburbs?" She suggested, giving a little smile.

"Hey now, don't be like that, dog. Mike jus' some white suburb boy, too."

"So you're saying I can _improve?_"

"No," he crossed his arms, gesturing for her to follow him out of the room. "I'm _sayin'_ you can still get out, dog. Go legit."

"Like how Michael went 'legit?'" Katherine followed him up the stairs and into the kitchen. "Because that turned out so well for him."

"Mike been in deep for a _long_ time," he stopped at the Kitchen counter, picking up a set of keys. "Ya'll still got a chance, though. Once this FIB shit over? Ya'll can make a clean break." He tossed her the keys, watching as she caught them. "Yours. Code for the alarm is 45929."

Katherine was about to thank him when the door knocked, a fast, loud wrapping one. "Yo, Franklin!" A voice shouted from the other side. "Nigga I _know_ you in there, I see your fuckin' car."

Franklin looked to Katherine before giving a sigh, shaking his head and heading to the door to let the visitor in. He opened the door and there was no delay, the man entered, tall and lanky and covered in tattoos, scoping out the house, his eyes thinned. "This how it is, huh, nigga?" He asked. "Ya'll get some fuckin' paper n' start acting like ya'll ain't never even _been_ to the fuckin' hood!"

"Lamar," Franklin tried to cut in, closing the door, but Lamar throw his hand up to Franklin and froze when he noticed Katherine standing by the bench.

"Oh!" He laughed. "Oooh _fuck_ ya'll, nigga, I fuckin' get it now!" He exclaimed. "Ya'll gone out and got yourself a white girl, too! Well _fuck,_ Sir," he turned to Franklin and gave a mocking bow. "I's better stop disturbin' ya, sir, yessir. I's sorry, sir."

"Fuck you, man," Franklin winced, shaking his head.

"No, fuck _you_, Nigga!" Lamar shouted. "Ya'll fuckin' forget where your ungreatful ass came from? What, ya'll think your bigg-ass fuckin' crib and fuckin' a white girl mean ya'll didn't start in the fuckin' hood, nigga?" He asked, waving his arm around, gesturing angrily. "You fuckin' _blind_, nigga."

"Woah!" Katherine interrupted, breaking her awkward silence. "We aren't doing that."

Lamar just squinted at her in disbelief. "The fuck's this, anyway?" He asked, gesturing at her now as he approached. "The fuck is some white girl doin' fucking 'round with your black ass?" He stopped, looking her up and down. "The fuck happened to your fuckin' sad ass cryin' over Tanisha, huh? Man if I known all it woulda' taken was some fuckin' white girl with no ass-"

"Watch your mouth, homie," Franklin warned. "It ain't like that. She's livin' here cause-"

"Oh, _she's_ livin in this big ass crib with you?" He asked. "But not your fuckin' boy Lamar?! Fuck you, Nigga!"

"No, fuck you!" Franklin snapped. "Kat been pullin' bullets outta my ass, she lookin' out for me, I lookin' out for her, just like ya'll keep going the fuck on 'bout!"

"And where the _fuck_ was _she_ last time I got my ass shot?" He asked. "Ya'll ever think of helpin' your boy out? You know, the one you been fuckin' rollin with for years?"

"Do I look like a fuckin' mindreader, dog?" He asked. "How the fuck am I 'sposed to know every time someone tries to pop you while you doin' your fuckin' gang bangin' shit if ya'll don't fuckin' tell me?"

"Maybe you'd fuckin' know if you'd been round to roll with me 'stead of going _Vinewood,_" Lamar mocked, his voice dramatic. "And how the fuck come you ain't been asking your boy Lamar if I want a fuckin' cut in, huh? The fuck happened, nigga?"

"I didn't think ya'll was interested, what, with you throwin' up gang signs and shit," Franklin argued.

Lamar shook his head and threw his arms up in defeat. "Yeah, throwin up gang signs and makin' some fuckin' paper. Jus' tryna' survive, sir. Imma sorry, sir!" He dropped his arms, his shoulders dropping as he turned, heading for the door. "Yeah, fuck you, nigga, you and your white girl. Call me when you remember where the fuck you from."

As soon as he'd arrived, Lamar was gone, the door slamming behind him and leaving Katherine and Franklin in silence, Katherine's one of bewilderment and Franklin's one of seething anger.

* * *

"We're robbing it."

Katherine had been leaning against the railing of the 'office' balcony with Michael while he smoked. Trevor had called Franklin in for something and she'd come along to visit the only part of Blaine County that she missed spare for the freedom of travel that she'd had. When he announced this, her eyes snapped up, a little wide, watching him carefully. He didn't return her gaze.

"What?" She asked.

"The Bank. In Paleto Bay," he explained. "We're robbing it. Another job."

She eyed him as he inhaled, a breeze blowing her hair across her eyes a little and obscuring her vision. "That's why you've been going there, then," she mused. "I know you were up to something but..." Katherine trailed off. "Is it safe like the last one?"

He exhaled, shaking his head. "Nah. Not a clean in and out like the last one. A lot less simple. We're gonna need you on standby."

"But you've got a plan, right?" She asked as she brushed her hair back behind her ear, his eyes glancing up at her.

"'Course we do," he assured her, his smile matching his voice.

"Right," she rolled her shoulders as he pushed himself up from the railing, "I mean," Katherine cracked a cheeky smile suddenly, "you're Michael Townley. Most wanted man in Los Santos. I bet you'll get in, out, and be back by bedtime."

Katherine stood up straight as Michael closed the distance, his hand resting on her hip as it so loved to do and giving the same squeeze he always would. "America," he corrected, his voice low before she quickly snuck a kiss. "I was the most wanted man in _America,"_ He proudly added when she broke away.

"Then I must be the unluckiest," she laughed.

"I don't see you complaining, c'mere," he lifted his hand to her waist, the free one joining it and holding tight, pulling her in. "Give an old man some extra luck!" The shock caused her to squeal, laughing as he attempted to get his face close to her chest, Katherine trying to pull away against his grip.

"Oh, get a fuckin' room!" Trevor's voice groaned, caused Katherine to jump in surprise, Michael letting go and quickly creating space between them. "This a bank robbery or a frat party?"

"Lighten the fuck up, will ya?" Michael said, a little smile on his face as he shook his head.

"Why?" Trevor asked. "So I can become some soft old _fuck_ who cheats on his wife with women half his _fucking_ age?"

Katherine held in a laugh. "That'd mean you'd have to get married first, Trevor." She glanced at Michael, and the expression on his face ruined any chance she might have had at not cracking up, Michael soon joining her.

"Real fuckin' funny!" He roared, his anger just making them laugh all the more harder. "When you two are ready to act like fuckin' professionals, _Lester_ wants to see everyone. Especially you, Kitty Kat," he pointed at her and then stormed back inside.

"Good, she's here," Lester began as he typed away at his laptop, barely looking up at the two of them. "We might have found some _actual_ work for you."

"Making sure no one _died_ wasn't _actual_ work?" She asked. He ignored her question, reaching out and tapping a headset beside him.

"Managed to track down an LSPD radio unit," he began, pressing the 'enter' key, bringing the typing to an end and looking up at her. "We need someone who sounds like a cop. _You_ sound like a cop."

Katherine frowned, trying to figure out if he was joking. He wasn't. _Shit._ "Woah," she threw her palms up, taking a step back. "I do _not_ sound like a cop."

"Say 'code 487.'" Michael smirked, his arms crossed.

"What?"

"Humor me."

Katherine looked around, her posture shrinking when she noticed that both Trevor and Franklin were now listening quite intently. She frowned, shrugging. "Code 487."

Instantly the three men let out a mixture of noises. Michael laughed, Trevor let out a long, roarous 'HA' and Franklin simply gave a surprised 'damn!' Her mouth parted in shock. "Shut up!"

"Fuckin' A," Michael laughed. "You sound _just_ like a cop."

"Katherine's job will be to man this radio," Lester continued, cutting through the chatter. "While you're in there, she'll be giving misleading information to dispatch and the _real_ cops. Obviously it won't stop them from showing up - that's a given - but we can buy you some time."

Hesitantly, she relented, giving a short nod. "Fine. _Fine._"

"That's the spirit, be a team player!" Trevor shouted. "_Officer_ Kitty Kat." He gave a snort and Katherine rolled her eyes, eyeing the large booklet of radio-codes Lester was holding out to her.


	15. Get Out Clean

"All units advised hostiles are southbound. Hostiles are southbound with secondary hostiles incoming westbound."

Katherine was so nervous she was shaking, taking a split second of hesitation before she dared broadcast anything. She'd been doing this for 30 minutes now, but little had worked to change her nerves.

The crew was headed eastbound, of course, and there was no backup now that they had Franklin with them, but Katherine's main job was to mislead the police - which, judging by the shouting and confusion, was working quite well. Lester lifted a hand from his keyboard to wave at her, grabbing her attention from the other end of the desk.

"They're heading from the train," he explained. "Keep them away from the factory."

Katherine nodded, quickly scanning down the sheet of A4 paper she had on the desk with a quick reference to the most useful codes. "Back-up to Paleto Gas station, we've got an 11-99 at the Paleto Station, explosion, three 10-54s, possible suspects. All available units."

A hiss came from her headphones as someone radio'd back, making her suspect drop. "Dispatch, we've got code 100 on suspects within poultry factory, calling code 6 Charles on this, suspects are-"

There was a gunshot and silence, Katherine quickly switching off the microphone and allowing herself to breath again. She looked to Lester, who hadn't moved his gaze from his laptop, tracking their movements on his GPS tracking system. For five minutes, he said nothing, the silence more damning than any amount of shouting that was happening on her radio.

Finally, he removed his hands, calmly exhaling, a smile flourishing on his face. "They made it," he exhaled. "They're on the train now. Excellent."

Katherine let out a long and vocal sigh of relief as she took the headphones off, dropping them on the desk as if they were filthy. "Thank god," she agreed. "Is Frank okay?"

"Franklin will be fine. Luckily for you it looks like injuries are minor. You can probably go if you'd wanted," Lester explained, doing a poor job at being subtle with him hint-dropping. Katherine shook her head, rising from her seat.

"I'll stay here and make sure," she said, eyeing him, an eyebrow raised. "Trevor's idea of minor injury is more like everyone else's idea of 'critical wounding.'"

* * *

She had, of course, been right about Trevor. While he hadn't been critically injured, he'd still managed to burn his hands on whatever monster of a gun he'd come out of that bank with. He said it'd be fine, but one look was enough to prove to Katherine that he'd have a serious infection if she didn't see to it immediately.

"But it _huuuuurts!_" Trevor whined as she disinfected the open and blistered flesh. Katherine merely rolled her eyes, doing her best to remove the bits and pieces of dirt and gravel that had found their way in there. She _hated_ when he put that voice on. The high-pitched, wailing one. It was usually followed by some kind of outburst of rage. Trevor was a seriously disturbed man.

"Not as much as an infection will," she assured him, reigning in her patience, reminding herself that this was the man who kept her high. "I'm almost done." Katherine shot a glare at Michael, who was pressing his lips together to stop himself from laughing

As quick as she could, she bandaged his hands up, securing them with a pin, and handed them back. "Done." She announced, rising from her seat and stepping away as quickly as possible. "Keep them clean - no," she shook her head. That was stupid. Trevor would never do that. "Tell _Patricia_ to keep them clean and they should heal within a week."

"We should split up," Lester finally exhaled, closing the briefcase that held his laptop with a loud click. "Trevor, if you could give me a ride."

"Of _course._ The man with the _injured hands_ will give you a ride," he snapped. The outburst wasn't far off, just as Catherine had predicted.

"I'm ready when you are, Kat," Franklin added, appearing from where the couch was around the corner. She gave him a nod before closing the distance between herself and Michael.

"Let me know when it's safe to come and visit, okay?" She asked, shooting him a little smile. "I'm worried about your mental health."

"You and everyone else I know," Michael leaned in and planted a quick kiss on her brow before she turned back, following Franklin out the door of the 'office' building and down the stairs.

It was when they pulled out onto the dirt road leading to the freeway that Franklin finally spoke. "So, you and Mike, huh?"

She gave him a fleeting glance, a little surprised that he was finally acknowledging it. "What about it?" She asked.

"Just wonderin' what's goin' there, dog," he gave a shrug, returning the glance. "Ya'll know he married n' shit, right?"

"Yeah," she nodded. "Yeah I know."

"Ya'll know he ain't gonna leave his wife for you, though, right?"

Franklin's question completely blindsided Katherine, her mouth agape a little as she tried her best to shrug it off. "I don't know," she finally replied. "We haven't talked about that."

"Look, dog," he began, pausing and thinking it over very carefully, his eyes stuck to the road. "I like you, and I like Mike, too, don't get me wrong or nothin', but I don't know if ya'll noticed this, but Mike is a _selfish-_ass motherfucker."

"I know."

"I don't think ya'll do, dog," he insisted, quickly breaking his gaze to glance at her. "I know it ain't none of my business, but all he thinkin' bout in his head is him. How fucked up you an' him is, how he can't get his family to fuckin' talk to him, how the fuck he gonna work shit out with his wife _and_ keep fuckin' with you on the side."

She shifted in her seat, becoming more and more uncomfortable. "Look, this isn't like that. It's not like we're actually together or anything."

"Ya'll fuckin' followed him into some fuckin FIB bullshit and didn't think twice about it. Ya'll think I'm stupid?" He asked. There was a short silence before he exhaled, his shoulders loosening visably. "Okay, look, I'm sorry, homie," he relented. "I'm jus' worried bout ya'll is all."

"Why?" She asked. "What's so worrying?"

"Seen lotsa' homies do dumb shit for the same reasons."

"Look, really," she nervously laughed and brushed some of her hair behind her ear, "it's just… we're both really fucked up," her voice gave a croak with the last word. Her throat was dry, she was on the peak of her oxy high. "Misery loves company, you know? And I mean, it's little things. Trevor told me once I look a little like his wife did. Maybe…"

"So ya'll think he gonna leave his wife for a younger version of his wife?" Franklin asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"I don't know!" She exclaimed, her voice raising suddenly, scaring herself. "I… I don't don't. I really don't know." She relaxed in her seat, pausing to think.

"You do what ya'll need to," Franklin finally spoke, his voice much more comforting. "I jus' don't want T and Mike fuckin' you up like them."

"What do you mean?" She asked.

"It's like, they both be in some weird-ass fuckin' fantasy world, ya know? And they the only ones in it who matter." He glanced at her, reading her expression for a moment. "Like, all Mike seein' is his own shit. He on some fucked up planet were bein' some old, rich, white dude is the hardest fuckin' thing to happen. And T? Well… he…"

"Let's just agree that Trevor's world isn't somewhere we want to go. Ever." She chuckled.

"Right." Franklin smiled as the Los Santos skyline came into view in the horizon. "But you and me? We both - well, ya'll ain't really from the hood, but ya'll _seen_ it, you know? We know what it's really fuckin' like out here."

"We know what it's _really_ like to have a hard life." She suggested.

"Yeah," he agreed. "And we can still get out clean. Might take me a lil' longer than you, but once this FIB shit's over? We can still go legit."

As they turned off the freeway to approach Vinewood Hills, Katherine stared out the window.

She wasn't sure if she _wanted_ to get out anymore.


	16. The Right Thing To Do

_Bang. Crack. Thud._

Katherine had no idea where she was.

_Creak. Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. _

She was walking home from the gas station after getting a burger. She'd bought one for Franklin. He was waiting for her. Everything was dark. She opened her eyes and everything stayed black. Was she blind?

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Cough._

She tried to move her arms. Her legs. She couldn't. They were stuck to something. She flexed her hands, something was tight around her wrists.

_Tap. Tap. Beep. Click._

There was a sharp light suddenly, like a flash, the sound of a camera joining it. She turned her head, groggy, everything feeling heavy, her mouth and throat dry.

"Hold on," a voice said. "Let me take the hood off."

Suddenly there was light, her vision returning in a fuzzy haze. It took a few blinks before she could make out the faces of the two figures in front of her. Haines and Norton. Another flash and another click as Haines held something in her vision, a grin on his face. "Perfect!" He exclaimed. "It's always better when they're awake, you can see the confusion on her face, see?" He asked, pointing to the iFruit in his hand to show Norton.

Norton shook his head, frowning at his partner. "I specifically told you _not_ to do this," he stated, stepping away, his hands on his head in frustration.

"Pfft," Haines put the phone in his pocket and rolled his eyes. "We're giving them a damsel to rescue, if anything they should be grateful that they're getting a reward."

"She's a kid, Haines," Norton argued, gesturing to her. Haines laughed.

"Come _on_, it doesn't phase Sugartits." He directed his attention to her. "Does it?" He asked.

"What…" Katherine choked. Her mouth tasted like blood for some reason.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart, I just keep forgetting my manners!" Haines exclaimed. "We decided that the best way to put your talents to use was to take you as an… think of it as a safety deposit. They do this job for _us_, we give you back to Old Man Townley relatively unharmed."

"And if they don't?" Norton asked, his arms crossed.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Haines replied. "You see, it's not that I don't think they'll do what I ask them to, you know, considering I can have them all on death row with as much as a LifeInvader message," he explained to Katherine, "but it's more that I think they needed to be reminded who's boss. I feel like Phillips is getting a little bit too big for his boots."

"And what do we do _when_ they finish the job?"

"We let her go." Haines shrugged. "What's she gonna do? Talk?"

"I _don't_ like this," Norton warned as Haines approached him.

"Uhuh, well, it's a good thing this isn't your operation, isn't it?" He patted Norton on the back as he headed for the door of what looked like, to Katherine at least, an old garage. "Sit tight, sweetheart," he called back, not so much as even looking at her. "I'm sure this'll only take about 8 hours.

Just like that, he was gone, Norton watching her for a moment before following, the steel door shutting with a _clank_. She was alone now, strapped down to a chair in the centre of of the garage, taking in her surroundings. It was relatively bare, no cars or anything inside, but there was a tray with assorted tools on it to the side of her. The ground was bare and cold, concrete. There was splatters of something on it - oil? Blood? It could have been either. She didn't want to find out.

Katherine looked down at herself. Her shirt and shorts, which were clean when she'd been walking home, were dirty. Blood splattered on them. Her face ached, and even though she knew it'd just make her feel worse, she wanted to see what they'd done to her.

Was it a matter of 'they,' though? Or was this all Haines' work? Norton didn't look like he approved, although he didn't exactly _stop_ him, either. Did he even know that Haines was doing this?

It was no matter, though. She could ask as many questions as she wanted, but she couldn't exactly get any answers. Her head was throbbing. How did they get her knocked out, anyway? Judging by the headache, she wouldn't be surprised if Haines had just smacked her in the head with something heavy.

There was Nothing Kat could do, though, except for wait.

* * *

"They fucking _what?!_" Trevor roared at the wharf as the three of them awaited the arrival of the FIB agents.

"They got her. Look what I got," Michael took his iFruit from his pocket, opening something and handing it to Trevor. Sure enough, there was a photo of Katherine, tied to a chair, her cheekbone swollen, her lip split, barely conscious. "Called it an 'insurance policy.'"

"Fuck, man," Franklin exhaled, shaking his head. "Why they gotta fuckin' take her in?"

"I don't know," Michael took his phone back, swiping it closed and putting it back in his pocket. "She can't even defend herself. Not like she's a threat."

Trevor, who had started to pace in anger, let out another roar, filled with rage as his both his arms tensed. "Are you fucking stupid?!" He shouted at Michael. "It's because you're _fucking_ her, you _fucking asshole!_ I _knew_ this would happen! You put your dick in her and now she's a fucking _liability!_ She's _leverage_!"

"I 'unno, T," Franklin cut in. "Maybe they fuckin' heard 'bout Kat shootin' up Aztecas n' figured she just _might_ be dangerous."

"Wait, what?" Michael asked.

"Hey, _hey!_" Trevor shouted, raising his index finger, gesturing for having a moment to speak. "That was _one_…" he paused, looking between the two. "And she's a _fucking_ good shot, '_thank you very much, __**Trevor.'**_"

"You had her shooting _gang members?!_" Michael shouted. "She's a _nurse,_ Trevor, not one of your goddamn tweakers!"

"I did her a fucking _favor,_ Michael. You can keep pretending she's still clean, but like it or not, _she's in with us now!_"

"The fuck is that 'sposed to mean?" Franklin snapped, frowning.

"I means, Slick, that if she's going to _survive_ in a group of murderers, she has to _be_ a murderer. It's kill or _fucking be killed!"_ He exploded, throwing his arms up. "Don't get all fucking high and mighty on me, because at least I see more in her than something I can _fuck_ so I can pretend I'm a fucking quarterback again!"

"I thought I told you to fucking drop it!" Michael shouted. "It's none of your goddamn business and has nothing to do with this!"

"Woah, hold on, Mike," Franklin but in, "ain't the main fuckin' reason she all caught up in this FIB bullshit 'cause ya'll been fuckin' with her?" Franklin let out a 'pfft' and threw his hands up.

"Oh, don't _you_ fucking start on me, Frank," Michael snapped. "At least I fuckin' took it."

"The fuck you talkin bout?!" Franklin's voice raised in pitch a little as Trevor watched on, curious.

"I know what you're up to. Driving lessons, helping her move, letting her _live with you._ Don't go taking your petty jealousy out on _me._"

Franklin was completely bewildered, choosing to just silently shake his head. "Ya'll got that twisted as _shit_, dog," he finally said, his voice totally serious.

"Then what's with all this knight in shining armor shit?" Michael asked.

"I'm doing it 'cause it's the right fuckin' thing to do."

There was a long, almost painful silence between the three before Michael exhaled, shaking his head and giving a shrug. "Alright. Fine," he relented. "You're right. I'm at least partly responsible for this. Frank? I'm sorry."

Franklin eyed Michael carefully. "It's cool, dog," he finally responded.

Michael ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his eyes shut and turning to face the water. "Let's just focus on getting the FIB off our backs for now. We'll fight about this later."

No one said anything for a while. Trevor focused on pacing and muttering angrily to himself, while Michael lit a cigarette, looking over the water. Eventually, Franklin made his way to his side, joining him in the view. "So ya'll heard from your family yet?" He asked.

Michael's eyes stayed fixed on the water. "Not a fuckin' word."


	17. The Torture of Katherine O'Brien

_Once again, guys, thanks for your reviews! I love to get feedback on what you like about this so I can build on it. I'm glad you all like that I'm trying my best to work within the story, even if I am adding tiny little bits and pieces here and there, but they could have easily been little side stories that got cut, so shhh._

* * *

Something had gone wrong.

She wasn't sure at first, after what she assumed were the first 8 hours were up, she figured maybe they were delayed. But then Haines came back, his leg in a compressor, limping, angry. Something had definitely gone wrong. _Very_ wrong.

The first time he hit her, he explained they were plotting against him. He wanted her to tell him the plan. But there was no plan - and that wasn't what he wanted to hear at all. He said she was pretty, so he'd try not to do anything permanently damaging to her face. That was right before he punched her in the stomach.

What felt like it lasted for hours was probably only a short time. An hour, two maybe? But it felt like more. He mostly hit her. He'd pull her hair and dump water in her face while he screamed at her. "What are they planning?" He screamed. "How are they going to sabotage me?" But she didn't know anything because there _was_ nothing. No plan, no sabotage, nothing. She begged, she pleaded, she screamed so loud that she was sure _someone_ would hear, hoping at any moment Michael or Franklin or Trevor would kick down that door - but there was nothing except for Haines. His frustration soon turned to rage, and before she had time to beg him to let her go, he'd taken a pocket knife out from his belt.

"I can cut a whole finger off you if I want, sweetheart," he warned, trailing it under her collar bone, pressing the blade in, shouting so she'd hear him over her screaming. "You know what? I could kill you if I wanted, because they sure aren't coming for you." He laughed as the cut continued, his movement slow, excruciating. "You really think they care about you? I mean, Townley might, but I'm sure there's a hooker out there _just_ like you. So why don't you tell me what they're planning, I get rid of them and you can get out of here alive and act like you're a person again?"

He pulled right away from her when his phone rang, throwing his free hand over her mouth as he dropped the knife and reached for the iFruit. "You make a noise and I'll kill you right now, dollface," he warned, his voice chipper as he answered, Katherine turning silent, petrified. "Haines," he answered. There was a silence, the only noise was Katherine's breathing and a mumbling sound from the phone. "Uh-huh. Shit. I'll be there in 15. Thanks for the heads up."

Haines hung his phone up, removing his hand from her mouth, allowing her to gasp a shaky breath. "Duty calls, sweetheart. Sorry to cut our date short," he wiped his hands on her shirt and stepped away, "but think about what I said while I'm gone. We'll talk when I'm back."

He stepped out, switching off the light as he did, leaving her in darkness, alone with her shaking breath, short gasps between each, her face hot with tears and blood.

She started to scream when she heard the door open shortly after, something she felt she had no control over anymore. "Please," she begged into the darkness. "Please, please, please no! Please!" She pleaded as the footsteps approached, closer and closer. She squeezed her eyes shut, bracing herself when they stopped in front of her.

Something slit the restraints from her wrists, then her ankles, grabbing her by the arm to pull her to her feet. She was incredibly unsteady, stumbling and falling to the wet, cold floor first. "Get up," the voice ordered. "We don't have a lot of time." The figure grabbed her once more, pulling her to her feet, Katherine using all her willpower to follow them out of the building.

"Get in the car. _Now._" He ordered as he opened the door, the light from outside almost blinding her. She had no idea how much time had really past, but she was assuming it was at least a day. Without so much as looking back at her savior, she pushed herself to get to the SUV, leaning against it as she opened the door, and using all her strength to lift herself into the passenger's seat.

Giving a long exhale of exhaustion, she looked to her left to face the person who'd freed her. "Norton?"

He didn't so much as look at her as he started the car, his face in a frown as he sped away from the facility. "You do _not_ tell anyone I did this except for Michael," he began, his voice stern, speaking bluntly. "If you're asked, you tell them Michael found you and got you. You understand?" He asked. "Not a word."

She nodded. "Anything," she croaked. "Thank you… thank you so much…"

"Don't thank me," he ordered, "I wasn't here. I've told Michael to meet me and make sure that there's a motel room waiting, I haven't told him _why_. You're going to get out of the car, walk over to him and not tell him _anything_ until I'm gone and far away from his anger management issues."

She was silent for the rest of the trip, as was he. There was little to speak of, making the trip into Blaine County _silent._ He stopped in front of the motel where she once stayed, Michael's car already parked out the front with Michael leaning against the side of it, cigarette in his hand. Without a word, Katherine did as she was told, climbing out of the SUV and walking to Michael - Norton speeding away almost as soon as she shut the door. Michael watched her in disbelief at first, probably unsure who she was before it clicked, after which he dropped his cigarette right right and ran to her without hesitation. "Kat?" He asked. "Fuck. _Fuck!_"

Reaching out for him, she grabbed his arm and pulled herself to him, trying to hug him but instead stumbling. He slid his arms under hers, holding her upright as she found her feet again, Katherine remaining silent.

"Fucking hell_,_" He exclaimed, throwing one of her arms over his shoulder and helping her stay upright as he lead her towards the room, not asking any questions as she might have expected him to and kicking open the slightly-parted door to bring her inside. They made a beeline for the bed, Michael attempting to sit her down on it, but Katherine more than happy to collapse onto it instead.

"Water," she finally choked. "Please." Without a word, Michael dashed to the bathroom, returning with a full glass and a moist towel and sitting her up on the head of the bed. As she sipped at the water, reveling in the feeling of a hydrated mouth, he took the towel and began to wipe at her face with it.

"How bad you feeling?" He asked as he cleaned her up, Katherine wincing as the towel wiped over the split that Haines had created on her cheek with a particularly strong backhand. He was married, as she'd learned from the ring he'd struck her with. "One to ten."

"Eight," she responded, taking another sip.

"What hurts most?" He asked her. Katherine didn't speak, just pointing at the long, deep cut into her flesh across her collarbone. Her face throbbed and ached, but the cut was a sharp pain.

Michael pulled her shirt down a little to get a better look at it, his face turning into a scowl. "I'm gonna fucking kill 'em," he growled. "They're fucking dead men."

"Norton," she began, squeezing her eyes together when she realised it was hurting to breath a little. Her ribs. Great. "...Norton got me out."

"What?"

"It was all Haines. Norton didn't… Norton didn't touch me. He got me out when Haines got called out."

"That's why he made me come here, then." He wiped some dried blood away from her mouth. "I'll tell the others and-"

"You can't," she cut in. "I mean, you can't tell them what Norton did."

"What?" He asked. "Why not?"

"He told me they can't know. He said you have to tell them that you were the one who got me. I don't think he wants Haines to find out."

Michael was quiet for a minute, thinking it over. "Well, that doesn't matter anyway. When the other find out, Haines is gonna' be on borrowed time." Michael gave her a smile, obviously trying to make her feel better in his own, roundabout way. "Trevor doesn't exactly react well to people who try to exercise authority over him, in case you haven't noticed."

"Please?" She asked, reaching out and grabbing his wrist, making him stop. "Please do what Norton said. He saved my life."

Michael watched her for a moment before nodding. "Alright. But only 'cos you're the torture victim." He shot her a smile, but Katherine wasn't buying it.

"You're doing a good job at trying to hide how angry you are right now," she began, giving the best smile she could manage without it hurting, happy to see _someone_ who didn't want to hurt her again.

"Good. Because I'm _murderously_ fuckin' angry right now. My therapist would be real fuckin' proud of me."

"Did you look for me?" She asked suddenly, remembering what Haines had said. Michael held her gaze for a moment, silent for a few beats before wiping her hands with the towel.

"'Course I did."


	18. Your Sister's a Bitch

Trevor was fucking _furious._

If he wasn't pre-occupied with how much he wanted those FIB _fucks_ dead, he'd probably be trying to find Michael ram something up his fat ass. Franklin and Trevor had split up when they got back from the job, starting the search for Kat. A frantic search filled with a mix of anger and panic. Franklin had his reasons - either he'd fallen in love with the naive little nurse or he was just a good kid, Trevor wasn't sure yet - and Trevor wanted his best employee back. He'd put all that effort into teaching her, molding her into an _asset _like he had Wade, and he wasn't about to throw that all out without a fight.

But Michael?

While they searched every goddamn warehouse in Los Santos, Michael hadn't lifted a single finger. Franklin had been right when he said it was Michael's fault she was wrapped up in this in the first place, and unlike Trevor had, Michael hadn't even tried to make the best out of it. She was somewhere in Los Santos, at the mercy of Haines and Norton. Trevor felt his grip on the wheel tighten in anger when he envisioned what they were probably doing to her. Beating her, waterboarding her, maybe even raping her. His teeth ground together. Little shits wouldn't even be able to torture her probably - it'd just be a fucking half job. If there was one thing that made Trevor angrier than people fucking with his things, it was people who didn't do their jobs properly.

Ultimately, of course, Trevor knew she was disposable, just like Wade and Ron, but that was up to _him_ to decide - not some smart-mouthed little shit from the FIB. He entirely expected her to be dead when, or rather, _if_ they ever found her. He'd be at peace with that. What he wouldn't be at peace with was the fact someone had taken that away from him. What he wouldn't be at peace with was that Michael was sitting on his ass feeling sorry for himself.

All Michael seemed to give a shit about was him. '_I_ miss _my_ family' was the one that drove Trevor up the wall the most. He _had_ another family that hadn't fucked off and needed him. The one that he was constantly putting in danger, the one with the hot little playmate. If he really cared about Amanda and their offspring, he wouldn't have stuck it in some 24-year-old with Daddy issues.

Instead of joining them, Michael had just shrugged the two of them off. "You guys go ahead," he'd said, walking towards his car, _casually_, like they'd asked him if he wanted to get pizza instead of rescue his kidnapped mistress. "I got some shit to sort out right now." Shit to sort out. His mistress was kidnapped by those two FIB _fucks_ and visibly beaten and he had 'shit to sort out.' Trevor could feel himself frowning and growling the more he thought about it. She was a liability, but she was _Trevor's_ liability. She was _his_ product. His latest project.

His phone gave a beep, almost snapping him out of his silent rage - but not quite. He pressed the receiver on his bluetooth earpiece. "FUCK IS IT?!" He shouted.

"Yo, T," Franklin's voice responded. "It's Kat, dog."

"You found her?" He asked.

"No. But Mike did."

Trevor frowned, slamming the brakes on his truck and skidding off the road. "_Michael?!_"

"Yeah, dog. Got her at the Blaine County motel right now. I'm headin' down there."

"How the _fuck_ did _he_ fucking find her?!" He roared. "He hasn't got off his fat ass once in the last two fucking days!"

"I dunno', dog. But he sayin' she pretty busted up."

Trevor gave a grunt and mashed the accelerator down, the wheels creaking below the axis. He paused, motioning to click off the earpiece, but stopping himself. "Tell _Michael_ he's got a _fuck load of explaining to do_ next time I see him! " He shouted before tearing the earpiece from its position, hurling it out of the truck and speeding down the freeway.

* * *

The next few days were a blur. Katherine didn't remember much. They managed to find another doctor to stitch up her collarbone - they told him it was a quad bike accident - and the rest was just a matter of letting the body heal itself. She wasn't sure who was looking after her. Sometimes she saw Michael, sometimes she saw Trevor and other times she saw Franklin, but at least one of them was giving her the strong stuff. There was no way she wasn't on morphine. She knew that feeling, the same one as when she broke her leg in high school.

"Kat," a voice asked one day, jostling her awake, gently nudging her on her motel bed. "Kat," Michael repeated. "Need you to wake up for a second."

"What?" She whimpered, prying her eyes open to look at him, her vision fuzzy from sleep.

A new voice spoke. A female's. Stern. Authoritative. "I can't even be disappointed in you, really." A chill went through Katherine as she summoned all her will to roll over, facing the figure. Katherine's heart plummeted, sinking into her ribs.

"Ainsley?" She asked, her eyes wide as they set on the woman who stood in the doorway of the hotel, arms crossed and eyebrow raised. "What are you…"

"If you're going to fake your own death, Katherine," she snapped, storming into the room, "leave the country next time and stay out of my hair."

"Woah, woah, woah," Michael cut in, reaching his arm out and stepping between Katherine's bed and Ainsley. "Who the hell _are_ you, anyway?"

"I'm her sister," Ainsley spoke bluntly, like she was more of a parent than a sibling, "as regrettable as that is."

"Hold on," he shook his head. "Kat didn't tell me bout no…" He stopped, taking a moment to actually look at Ainsley's face as she removed her sunglasses, revealing an obvious resemblance. He turned to face Katherine, who was now sitting up. "You have a sister?"

Katherine gave an exhausted sigh, reaching out to the bedside table and taking the glass of water from it. "Yeah," she groaned before taking sip.

"I thought you were an only child."

She set the glass back down, not looking up to her sister, speaking calmly. "I may as well have been."

"Oh _please,_" Ainsley laughed, her eyes rolling. "_Stop_ being such a drama queen. You're an embarrassment."

"Bite me."

"I'm afraid of what I'd catch."

"Hey!" Michael snapped, his voice raised. "Did you actually come here for something? Or did you just come all this way to insult my friend here?"

Ainsley eyed him carefully, sizing him up. Katherine had seen that look before. It meant she was here for trouble - she was assessing him as an enemy. Ainsley was older than Katherine by 6 years and it was starting to show. Not that you'd _dare_ say that to her. Ainsley was everything Katherine wasn't. She was tough, smart, successful and bold, heading up a company and on her way to CEO if she played her cards right. However, Katherine knew Ainsley better than anyone and knew she owed her success not to her 'strengths,' but to the fact she had no concept of empathy, no emotion at the sight of others suffering.

She had a superiority, no, _god_ complex - and Katherine's appearance certainly was only fueling it right now. Katherine was in a dirty pair of shorts and old t-shirt with several holes in it, strung out and bruised, her hair matted. Ainsley, however, stood above her looking impeccable, her business suit meticulously tailored to her form, heels Katherine would never have dreamed of wearing to the desert only serving to add to the height of the already tall woman. Her makeup was without flaw as were her nails, her long, blonde hair full of volume and silky smooth. Yet, despite the polished appearance, the sharpest thing about Ainsley was her gaze - locked on to Katherine, sharp as razors. Even through the haze of mixed painkillers she was on, it chilled her to the bone.

"I came here because one of my associates told me he'd seen my doppelganger dealing drugs when he was passing through Blaine County. Do you think I'm stupid?" She asked. "You move into a large apartment in an upscale area which is well out of your price range and then 'vanish' when the place burns down?" Ainsley shook her head. "And you didn't even have life insurance to pay me out with."

"Your sister goes missing and all you care about is money?" Katherine scoffed. "Color me surprised."

"Not as surprised as the police will be when I call them," Ainsley reached into her pocket, removing an iFruit and swiping it open. "I'm sure you'll do well in pr-"

Ainsley was cut off by a cracking noise, before collapsing, Michael standing over her having struck her in the head with the handle of his gun. Katherine looked up at him, wide-eyed and startled as he rolled his neck.

"No offense," he said, leaning down and taking hold of the unconscious woman, looking his arms underneath hers, "but your sister's a bitch."

"I'm aware," Katherine sighed, watching him as he began to drag her towards the doorway. "Where are you going to take her?"

"If the way he treated Patricia was anything to go by," he grunted, "your sister will have a _great_ time with Trevor."


	19. A Fine Line

"So, about your sister," Trevor began, guiding Katherine into the trailer. It'd been a week since Ainsley had shown up, and Katherine was standing and walking about again. Michael, who at some stage during her recovery had cleared things up with Madrazo, had gone back home to Rockford Hills, meaning Trevor was the last person in Blaine County she had to say goodbye to before going home. "She's… a _firecracker_." He gave a low growl as he eyed Ainsley, who was tied down to a chair, giving Trevor the same icy glare that she usually had reserved for Katherine.

"I will _murder_ you," Ainsley spat, her teeth gritted together, making Trevor laugh.

"You know," Trevor began moving to the fridge and taking out a beer, tossing it to Katherine, "Ainsley here seems like the kind of woman who enjoys hurting small animals. Maybe even killing them." He cracked open a beer for himself. "Does she have… a history?"

"Fuck you!" the tied down woman shouted.

"Not that I'm aware of," Katherine replied, watching her older sister struggle against her bonds. "Although, to be honest? Wouldn't surprise me."

"You're such a drama queen!"

"And you have no empathy!" Katherine retorted.

"God!" Trevor cackled. "I just _love_ family reunions!" He moved to Ainsley, grabbing her by the chin and shoving the bottle in her mouth, forcing her to drink some of the beer. Ainsley resisted, and spat the beer at him when she got the chance, covering him in a spray. He laughed, wiping some of it from his cheek, before leaning in and screaming. "You might be a _guest,_ but you're treading a _fine fucking line here,_ Missy!"

"Fuck you!" Ainsley shouted back, not at all taken aback by what would have had Katherine frozen.

"Let's _fucking _go, then!" Trevor roared.

Placing her beer down on the counter, Katherine shook her head and raised her eyebrows. "I'll see you later, Trevor," she mumbled, leaving as the two continued their screaming match.

* * *

"So, how come you never told me about your sister?" Michael asked, her head resting on his shoulder as they watched another of his movies. _An American Divorce._ He said this one felt more relevant than ever.

"I just didn't." Her eyes ran across the living room of the house. It wasn't her house, of course, but it felt nice to be back. "Never came up."

"Guess not," he reached forward, grabbing his glass of scotch and taking a sip. "Obviously you don't…"

"Get along?" She asked. "Yeah, no."

"Yeah, that's a nice way of putting it." He eyed her a little, carefully watching her expression. "I mean, compared to Jimmy and Tracey, that was a fuckin'-"

"Michael?" She asked, putting a palm on his chest and looking up at him. "Remember what we said about making this weird? Because comparing me to your kids is doing that."

His eyebrow lifted at this, curiosity far outweighing his desire to not anger the only woman in his life who was still speaking to him. "So what happened?" He asked.

Katherine looked back down, fidgeting with her hands. "She's just always been a bitch," she mumbled. "Everything was about herself. Not in the greedy way, either. I mean, she'd…" she trailed off for a moment. "She was ruthless. Er, _is _ruthless. She'd do anything to get ahead. She'd throw me under the bus, grandma, her friends, anyone… and when I got busted with oxy she uh," Katherine gave a shrug. "Told them she didn't know me. Wouldn't bail me out of holding, refused to take my calls. Don't really know why I was surprised."

"Hey," Michael moved his hand down past her waist and squeezed her hip gently. "Just cause they're family doesn't mean they're not as fucked up as you are." He smiled. "Fuckin' trust me."

"Heard anything from them yet?" She asked, trying to change the subject. Michael gave a nod and she felt her gut tense, hoping he hadn't heard from his wife, at least.

"Yeah. Tracey's sent a few emails," he replied, Katherine feeling a wave of relief wash over her, followed by a wave of guilt. Was she seriously hoping his wife would leave him? Was Franklin right? Maybe he was. Maybe she was in too deep. Suddenly, she felt a little uncomfortable where she was, shifting a bit. "That's it, though."

"Guess it's better than not hearing from them at all," she suggested.

"Yeah," he exhaled, lowering his head and kissing the top of hers. "Guess it is."

* * *

"Anything?" She asked Franklin as he hung his phone up. Franklin shoot his head, shrugging as Katherine run a hand through her hair, beside herself.

"Nothin', dog. Lester ain't heard from him and T says he don't know anythin'."

Katherine threw her head back, giving a long sigh. Michael had been missing for days now, and no one had been able to get in contact with him. Not even a text message. Katherine had been doing her best to try and not worry, but the fact that even Lester didn't know anything was sending her into a panic. "What are we gonna do?" She asked.

"I dunno," Franklin shrugged. "Guess we keep lookin' and wait for Lester to find somethin'."

Katherine sat in silence for a moment, staring at the ceiling of the house they shared before swinging herself upright. "Gun," she said, holding her hand out.

Franklin stared at her in silence, puzzled and not sure what he'd heard. "What?"

"Gun," she repeated. "Give me a gun."

"The fuck you need a gun for?!" He asked, watching as she looked around, taking one from the coffee table instead. "Hey, that's mine!"

"I'm going to talk to Trevor," she called, rushing past him and out the front door. Franklin followed, completely confused by her behavior.

"You fuckin' high?!" He asked. "Why the fuck ya'll need a gun to-"

She stood on the road in front of their home, causing an oncoming car to come to a stop so as not to hit her. She rushed to the driver's side, opening the door, the pistol pointed at the driver. "I need this car!" She shouted, guiding the screaming driver out of the car as he frantically tried to create distance between him and the weapon. Once he was out, she climbed in, slamming the door shut and speeding off.

Franklin was just as confused as the guy whose car had been jacked.


	20. The Perfect Woman

"Trevor!" Katherine shouted, slamming the door of the stolen car, pistol in her hand. She made a mental note to thank Franklin for the driving lessons which had made sure she'd arrived in Blaine County without either crashing or driving erratically enough to alert the police. "Trevor," she called again, approaching the fence. "I know you're th-" She gave a jump when she heard a gunshot followed by a woman squealing. _Shit._

"Trevor!" She shouted, sprinting to behind the trailer. "You told me you wouldn't shoot her!"

Another gunshot. Katherine gasped, hand tightening on her pistol as she turned the corner. The sight before her when she found them chilled her to the bone.

Trevor stood behind Ainsley, his arms around her, helping her aim a shotgun at a bleeding hog. Ainsley, who'd obviously just launched a round into the freshly killed animal, was grinning and laughing, doing a small and happy dance on the spot, pleased with her work. "I did it!" She laughed, her voice filled with glee.

"Damned fucking straight!" He applauded, stepped away, slapping her on the behind and causing her to squeal and jump before bursting into giggles again.

"What the…" Katherine blinked, stepping forward. "What the _fuck?_"

"Kitty Kat," he began, throwing an arm around her and leading her a few steps away, their backs turned to Ainsley, who was now happily inspecting her kill. "Your sister? Ainsley? I'm… in love with her."

She pulled away. "What?!" She asked, her voice high in disbelief. "Are you _insane?!_"

"Yes, I _am!_" He explained. "And so is _she,_ and that's why it's _meant to be!_ And Kitty Kat, I think she feels the same way."

Katherine's eyes widened as she stared at him in disbelief. "She's a _sociopath,_" Katherine whispered through gritted teeth, "she doesn't feel _anything!_"

"Hey, hey, hey, that is _not_ true," he snapped, pointing at her. "She feels anger, entitlement and superiority. She's the _perfect woman!_"

"What about Patricia?" Katherine stammered, trying to make Trevor believe this was a bad idea, even for him. "I thought you loved _her." _

"Oh, I did. And I still _do. _But Ainsley here showed me that monogamy is a selfish concept. _Why_ would you keep a beautiful emotion like love you to just _one person?_"

Katherine gave a long blink, her mouth agape once more. "That was her excuse for cheating on her second husband!" she shouted. "Verbatim!" Katherine paused, throwing her hand up for quiet and shaking her head. "Whatever. Where's Michael?"

Trevor rolled his eyes and swung away from her on his heel. "I don't fucking _know._ Probably trying to stab us all in the fucking back… again?"

"What?" She asked. "No, you know what? I don't care. Not right now. Where was the last place you saw him?"

"Kitty Kat," he began, his voice low, the assuring tone to it he'd used when explaining her status as his 'employee'. "You're a _smart woman._ Surely you can see that this is your chance to get a _clean_ _break_ from the cancer that is Michael."

"Trevor," she frowned, her eyes fixed on him. "Where. Did. You. See. Him?"

"You don't-"

"Fucking tell me!" She snapped, her hand racing to the pistol she'd tucked into the waistband of her shorts. Trevor's eyes followed her hand, his eyebrows raised and his lips pressed together.

"Kitty Kat," he regaled, "I'm _impressed_ with you! If I'd known _this_ was what it took to light the fire under your ass-"

"Trevor!" She shouted.

"North Yankton," he responded, completely calm, the fact he wasn't at all threatened frustrating Katherine to no end. "The place _Brad_ is buried. You know, in the grave that has Michael _fucking _Townley written on it."

"Brad?" She asked. "Who the hell is…" she put her head up again, shaking her head. "Don't care. Thanks." With that, Katherine turned and head for the car, not even looking back at Trevor and her batshit sister.

"Of _course_ you don't!" Trevor began, following her, his voice raising. "Because it's not something that affects _you._ You know what?" He asked as she opened her car door. "You? You're just fucking like him," she caught a glance of him as she started the engine of the car. He was pointing at her, the rest of his hand in a fist. She knew what was coming if she didn't get away in time. "You two are _fuckin'_ perfect for eachother!"

"Oh, go fuck yourself," she dismissed as she pulled into reverse, kicking up the dust beneath the car.

"Fuckin' _backstabbers!_" He roared. "I hope you get fuckin' pregnant with another of his fuckin' shitty backstabber kids and get as fucking _fat_ and _miserable_ as he is!"

"And I hope Ainsley smothers you in your sleep," she shouted as she swung the car around.

"She's already tried and it was _fucking awesome!_"

Katherine pushed the pedal to the floor and sped off down the road, catching a glimpse of Trevor delivering a kick to the side of his trailer, roaring in utter rage. She drove as fast as she could, trying her best to stay calm until she was well away from him - which happened to be Rockford Hills given his tendency to follow people who made him angry. She pulled over as soon as she was sure she was safe and frantically brought up the contacts on her phone. F. F. F Franklin. Her hands shaking a little from what was, to her, an unidentifiable emotion coursing through her, probably a mix of several.

"Kat?" His voice asked. "Where the fuck did you go?"

"North Yankton!" She spurt. "I… I mean, I didn't go there. Michael did. Trevor said that he was in North Yankton and-"

"That don't matter now," Frankin cut in, his voice sounding rushed. "Lester got a signal from Mike's phone. He's here somewhere. Jus' gotta track him."

Throwing her head back, she gave an audible blurt of relief. "Oh thank_ god!_" She groaned.

"Go to the house," he said, his voice serious as he thought on his feet, "and wait for us, 'kay? I'll bring him back. Ya'll just make sure you're ready to patch Mike up."

"Why?" She asked. "Is he hurt?"

"How the fuck should I know, dog?" He asked. "This is Mike we talkin' bout, god fuckin' knows what the fuck he got himself into."

* * *

Katherine slapped him across the face. "Don't you _ever_ scare me like that again!"

Rubbing the cheek she'd slapped him across, Michael raised a bleeding eyebrow at her, moving to the couch she'd set up as a makeshift medical station. "Thought you liked living dangerously."

"Sorry," she exhaled and rushed to his side, quickly grabbing his chin and moving his face under the light to examine the extent of the damage, "I'm sorry. I'm on edge."

"Yeah, you're fuckin' telling me."

"Are you shot at all?" She asked. "Anything immediately dangerous?"

"Nah," Michael shook his head, glancing at Franklin, who was looking a little beat up himself. "Got out before they could do anything serious. I got Frank to thank for that."

"Ain't nothin', dog." Franklin gave a shrug, watching them as Katherine nodded, starting work on a gash she'd found in his shoulder, deep in concentration and trying to be as gentle as possible.

"Frank told me 'bout what you did," Michael began, a little smile on his face. "You really jacked a car?" He asked. Katherine didn't verbally respond, instead nodding as she cleaned the area, removing a shard of glass. "Before I know it, you'll be guarding the door on jobs."

"Thanks, but no thanks," she snipped off some excess stitching and placed a small piece of gauze over it. "You want to tell me what's going on with Trevor?"

"Apart from him wanting to skin me?" Michael shook his head. "You don't want to get wrapped up in that, Kat. Trevor isn't the kind of guy you wanna piss off."

"I already did," she explained bluntly as she wiped some dried blood from the corner of his mouth.

"What?" Michael quickly pulled away, grabbing her wrist and staring at her. "Why the _fuck_ would you do that, Kat? You fuckin' lived with the guy, you should kno-"

"He's 'in love' with Ainsley," she butted in.

"That ain't worth getting blown up over! Jesus, Kat."

"Are you being serious right now?"

"No, I'm just a little frustrated that I'm putting my ass on the line to keep you safe, only to find out you're tempting fate."

Kat raised her hands in exhaustion. "You want to talk about frustrating, Michael?" She asked, her voice rising. "Try not hearing from you for _days,_ then finding out that not only is Trevor _fucking your mentally unstable sister_ but that he _knows_ where you've gone and doesn't want to tell you why! So you pull a gun on him because you want to find your stupid, reckless boyfriend and because of that, Trevor wants to kill you, and you can't go back there and get the oxy that's keeping you from going batshit crazy! _That's_ fucking frustrating!"

Kat sat still, realising she'd wound up shouting, looking around the room at the two visibly uncomfortable men and feeling her stomach drop. Did that just happen? Oh god, that just happened. She'd been two hours between highs and she was already losing it - not even the 'coping mechanisms' her rehab therapists had armed her with could help her. It wasn't really like they covered mantras for when the man you're sleeping with who's at _least _20 years your senior and married is nearly killed by Chinese gangsters. Katherine dropped her gaze, quickly and nervously putting the tools she'd had in her hand in with her kit and standing up.

"I… I just…I just need a minute," she stuttered. "J-just ice your eye." She quickly swept herself past Franklin and down the stairs into her room, muttering several exacerbated curse words under her breath.

* * *

"Kat," a voice on the other side of the door asked following a slow and hesitant knock. "Can I come in?"

Katherine had been sitting on her bed in silence, trying her best to calm herself down. She'd succeeded, of course, but now she just felt deflated and upset instead of angry. "Yeah," she replied, half-hearted in doing so. She didn't really want to talk to Michael, but he didn't usually want to unless it was something important.

She heard the door creak open, followed by footsteps that stopped when he arrived on the side of the bed she sat on. He joined her, resting his elbows in his knees so he could lean downwards and get a glimpse at her face. "I'm sorry, okay," he sighed. "You were pretty fuckin' brave. Not a lotta' people would do that for me."

"I seriously…" She sighed. "I don't know what made me do it. Guess I was scared something had happened and I…" she trailed off.

"Ain't gonna be the only time something bad happens to me, least before this is all over, anyway."

"I know," she a hand through her hair, "I know. It's just… I'm new to this, Michael. I'm not used to it."

"It'll come," he assured her, reached up to her back and gently rubbing the spot between her shoulder blades. "I mean, hey, we already got you jackin' cars, right?" He gave her a little smile, the one she gave in reciprocation being pale in comparison.

"What happens after this?" She asked, looking up at him, catching his gaze. "After the FIB is finished with us? ...Assuming we survive, I mean."

"Assuming we survive?" He repeated, tilting his head to the left and thinking. "I guess we take the money we've got and lay low."

"Lay low in Los Santos?" She asked. "With them on the doorstep? Not me. I'm going to Liberty City."

"Liberty City?" He asked. "What does Liberty City have for you, huh? You gonna start rolling with the…" he paused, rolling his wrist as he tried to remember. "...The Russians? Ukrainians? You know, those guys."

Katherine laughed, shaking her head. "No, no more of that, not for me. Going to go to school."

"School?" Michael's smile turned into a grin now, Katherine realising what she'd just told him. _Crap_. "What school does Liberty City have that's enough for you to move all the way there, huh?"

She hesitated for a moment before relaxing her shoulders. Might as well get this over with. "The Liberty City Institute of Music," she exhaled. "I just… I'm eligible for scholarships there. It's a shot."

"Music, eh?" He asked. "Never woulda' picked you as the musical type." He paused, quickly turning seriously "You aren't gonna audition for that fuckin' Fame or Shame shit, are you?"

Laughing, she shook her head. "God, no! Never!"

"Fuck," he jokingly put his hand to his chest. "Had me worried for a second. I ain't going through that shit again."

"And you're staying for your family?" She asked. "Think you'll ever patch things up with your kids?"

"Maybe," he shifted a bit and pulled her closer to him, Katherine resting her head on his shoulder. "Tracey's talkin' to me again, but I ain't heard a peep outta' Jimmy." He frowned. "Little shit's still got my car… 'sides," he began, a small smile flourishing on his mouth, "I got a job here now. A legit job."

"Really?" She asked, perking up a little. "Michael, that's great! What is it?"

"I'm making a movie!" He announced, smiling ear to ear, pride in his voice. "A real one, with Solomon Richards!"

"Who?"

"You know, producer? Rum Runner, Shoulder of Orion?"

"Oh," Katherine nodded. "Those. He's still alive?"  
"Yep! And I'm the associate producer of his latest project: Meltdown." Michael beamed at the thought of his name on a movie, lifting Katherine's spirits a little bit.

"Congratulations," she smiled, her face stinging a little bit from the remainder of a heavy bruise across her cheekbone. "I'm proud of you."

"Yeah, well," he kissed the top of her head, "movie producers are very powerful people with a lot of friends, so when a future musical headliner comes along…"

"Stop!" She laughed. "That's sleazy as hell!"

"I'm being serious," he chuckled. "If you stick around, Kat, you won't have to waste time at college again. I'm gonna give you whatever opportunities I can." Katherine didn't respond, but instead watched him carefully. "Least I can fuckin' do after the whole torture thing. You and me can shack up in some Chumash mansion, fuck around with more money than we know what to do with and actually fuckin' make something of ourselves."

Katherine laughed, raising an eyebrow. "You and me?" She asked.

He gave a small smile, reaching out to her face and running a thumb over her busted-up cheekbone. "You're all I fuckin' got right now."


	21. Trying to Fix Things

"Michael?"

He stood at the door, his suit jacket damp on the shoulders from the rain he's walked through getting from his car to her doorway. "Frank home?" He asked, peeking over her shoulder.

"No, he's with Lamar or something… did you want to come inside?" She asked. Despite the rain that poured down beyond the cover over her front door, he shook his head.

"Nah, it's uh… I'll be quick." Michael was frowning, avoiding eye contact with her, alarming her a little.

"What's wrong?" Katherine didn't know Michael as well as a lot of people, but she knew him well enough to read his expression. Something was wrong, on his mind.

He rolled his neck from side to side, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, seemingly unable to stay still. "Saw my family yesterday," he said. "Amanda and the kids. They're uh, talkin' to me again."

Leaning against the doorway now, Katherine gave him a smile. "Thats great! I know you missed your kids."

"Yeah, well uh, they moved back into the house," he began, "Amanda too." The smile on Katherine's face vanished. "Kat, look, we… Amanda and I are giving it another shot. We're gonna try and fix things."

Katherine was silent for a moment, her eyes lowering, her lips pressed together. She was sure Michael said something else after this. Something about her being a good person and something assuring her that she'd probably be better off without him anyway, but she wasn't really listening.

Eventually, though, she exhaled, nodding and looking up to him, looking him in the eye for the first time since he'd shown up. "It's um… it's fine. I mean. Um…" She forced herself to smile, "we were really just screwing around anyway, you know?"

"Yeah," he agreed. "Exactly."

"No, it's uh, it's good you worked stuff out," she laughed, "I mean, it would have just made it harder for me to leave and…"

"Kat, hey," he reached out, grabbing her shoulder to stop her. "I still mean what I said about helping you out. That's not changing."

Silent again, she thought about this before pulling away from him, another forced smile on her face. "You'd uh, you'd better get going," she began, "I mean, sorry, that sounded rude, but I've got some phone calls to make and I've got a driving test today. But, hey, it was fun!"

Michael eyed her for a moment, his expression making Katherine think that maybe he wasn't buying it one bit. "Look after yourself, alright, Kat?" He reached out again and patted her on the arm lightly before turning away, making a line for his car.

Katherine didn't wait to watch him leave. Instead, she slammed her door and leaned with her back against it, looking over the living room that she had to herself.

Katherine needed oxy, or she wasn't getting through this.


	22. You're a Cunt

_Oh god, I'm getting closer and closer to the end! I've had so much fun writing this but I'm still kind of doing this on the fly and I'm not 100% sure how I want this to end. I'm considering writing a few different endings, like a 'choose your own ending' kind of thing? Would you guys be interested in something like that? Or would you prefer this to be linear? I know a few of my readers are on different teams as to where they want Kat to end up, so I've been toying with the idea. Let me know!_

_Once again, thanks for all your reviews. They keep me motivated to finish and all mean so much to me!  
_

* * *

"Fuck did you do?!"

Franklin stared at Katherine as she lounged about in the living room, surrounded by boxes of oxy and high as a kite. Gashes on her face and blood on her shirt, she shrugged, sipping on a can of soda to combat her dry mouth.

"Needed oxy. Went and got some."

"Where the _fuck_ did ya'll get all this shit from?! And I fuckin' _know_ ya'll didn't get it from T ever since ya'll tried t' put a fuckin' bullet in his ass."

Katherine winced at his tone. "Robbed a pharmacy."

"You…" Franklin shook his head, pacing in a circle with his hands to the back of his neck. "You fuckin'... I mean, what the fuck, dog?"

"What?" She asked, her voice croaky.

"What? Yeah, 'what' _exactly,_ dog. Kat, this ain't you." He gestured to the almost incredible amount of boxes piled on the coffee table. "Fuckin' robbin' places 'n shit so ya'll can score some of ya'll fuckin' pain meds? Fuck'd Mike think if he knew ya'll was pullin' this kinda shit?"

"He's back with Amanda," she exhaled, stretching out. "He wouldn't care."

"Well _shit_, dog, I'm sorry that the married man went back to his wife," Franklin said, his head tilted to the side as his eyes thinned and he spoke with sarcasm, "but that ain't no fuckin' reason to start actin' like some fuckin' crackhead, aight?"

"What do you expect me to do, huh?" She asked. "I need to get through this and I just… _fuck!_" She exclaimed, throwing herself back down on the couch, unable to navigate her thoughts.

"I ain't expectin' you to do shit no more," he replied. "But I woulda' expected the _old_ Kat to get off her ass and try n' fuckin' get herself off this shit."

"Yeah, I'll just stop taking it. Boom, problem solved. Thanks a _lot,_ Franklin!"

"I ain't never said it _that_ easy, but not robbin' a goddamn drug store would probably be fuckin' good start, yeah."

Katherine rolled her eyes. "Why do you even care?" She asked. "Will you drop this white knight shit, please?"

"Because I don't want ya'll dead in some fuckin' crack den like my Mom!" He shouted, the sound of Franklin shouting _at all_ making her flinch visibly. There was a silence after this, and Katherine sat up, her gaze not moving from Franklin once.

"I… I…" she couldn't put together the words she wanted to as he flopped himself down onto the couch across from her.

"Don't worry bout it, dog," he exhaled, waving her off.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled. "I was… I was being a bitch."

"Yeah," He chuckled. "A bit."

Leaning down, she placed her elbows on her knees and held her head in her hands. "Michael's done a number on me. This whole… _thing_ has done a number on me."

"Ya'll gonna be right?" He asked. "I mean, ain't tryna' make it worse or nothin', but I tried to tell you."

"Yeah," she nodded. "You did. I should have listened."

* * *

The floor of the Vanilla Unicorn was sticky until you hit the back rooms, but the spilled drinks left your shoes tacky no matter where in the establishment you went. If anyone else had asked Franklin and herself there, she would have been incredibly suspicious. However, this was exactly the kind of thing she'd come to expect.

"The Vanilla Unicorn?" Katherine asked as they found their way into the back room, Trevor leaning against the fridge with a beer, Lester on a seat at the other side of the room. "Really, Trevor?"

"Oh _come on,_ here I am, trying to make _an honest living _through an honest, _all American business_ and you're trying to shit on it." He clicked his tongue. "Katherine, I am _surprised at you._"

"So you bought this place?" Franklin asked, deliberately bringing himself between Katherine and Trevor, despite no immediate threat.

"Yep."

"Off the old owner."

"Find him and ask, Slick. It's _all_ legitimate."

Suddenly, the door swung open, Michael strolling through, his sunglasses still on. "Sorry I'm late," he announced. "This about the big one?"

"The Union Depository? Sure is, _traitor,"_ Trevor announced as Michael found himself a spot near the back door. Katherine deliberately avoided eye contact as Lestor spoke, ignoring Trevor's dig.

"So, we're _sure_ we want to do this?" He asked. "It's a big risk."

"Yeah, but is it _possible?"_ Michael asked, his arms crossed.

"Dangerous…" Lester paused. "But possible."

"Sounds just like our kinda job!" Trevor roared. "Look at us! We eat danger right the fuck up! Even at the cost of our _best friends,_" he said, sneering at Michael.

"Look," Lester continued, "I need to know who's in and who's not. Don't go taking this lightly. If one of us goes down, we probably all will."

"I'm in," Michael announced quickly.

"I've been in since I came to this fucking city," Trevor joined.

Franklin nodded. "'Aight, count me in."

All eyes were on Katherine now, including Michael, which made her reasonably uncomfortable. She crossed her arms and glanced at Franklin, giving an exhale. "Just tell me what you need me to do and I'll do it."

"We have a full set," Lester announced. "Excellent. We'll need the extra hands. Give me a few days to get together the information I need and we'll meet back here to start preparations. Katherine?" He asked. "Trevor informs me you can handle a weapon now. Are you confident enough to take part in prepar-"

"Hold on," Michael cut in. "Kat's support. Always has been. We're keeping it that way."

"It's okay, Michael, I'll make sure you can still fuck her when it's over," Trevor spat.

"I'm just trying to look out for her, Trevor, and undo all the damage _you_ did!"

"Oh, and a _great_ job you did there, Michael," her sneered, his voice sarcastic. "Sitting on your ass while me and Slick here looked for your fucktoy was _exactly_ what constitutes _looking out for someone._ Although, given your history of throwing your friends under the _fucking bus_, I'm not surprised!"

"Woah," Kat finally spoke, putting her hands up for silence. "Wait, what the hell are you talking about?" She asked. "Michael was looking for me with the rest of you."

"Oh ho ho," Trevor chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh ho ho ho _ho,_ he… did he _tell_ you that, did he?" he asked, pointing to Michael. "Because, oh, sweetheart, baby, sugarlumps, let me tell you: Michael here? He didn't lift a _fucking finger_ to try and fucking find you!" He roared, Lester wincing at the volume. "While his fucking FIB best friends _beat the shit _out of you, Michael stayed in the trailer because he had 'his own shit to deal with.'"

Katherine rolled her eyes to dismiss this, but stopped when she caught a glance of Franklin, who was intensely staring down Michael. He wouldn't have…

"Michael?" She asked, turning her vision to him now, noticing how uncomfortable he looked - even behind his sunglasses. "Is… is that _true?_"

Michael didn't respond right away, Katherine's eyes widening with every moment. Trevor began to grunt, unsatisfied with the amount of time it was taking him to respond. "Fucking tell her!" He screamed.

"Kat, there were other things and I thought that maybe Trevor and Frank would-"

"You… you didn't come looking for me?" She asked. "The FIB kidnapped me and you didn't try to find me?" She paused, a realisation coming to a head. "You told me you did… you _lied_ to me?"

"Kat, please," he pleaded, but Katherine could almost hear the sound of her patience cracking beneath the three oxy-free days and the emotions she hadn't yet entirely exorcised.

"No, Michael, no. You _lied_ to me! I got kidnapped by the goddamn _FIB_ because of _you_ and you didn't even try to-"

"Kat, baby, please, let's just talk abou-"

"No!" She shouted. "I'm not _baby_ anymore Michael, you know why? Because even though I put my goddamn neck on the block for you, the second you got the chance you tossed me aside, just like _everyone else you know_." She blinked. "You know what?" She asked. "Fuck you. _Fuck you. Fuck! You!_" She caught sight of Franklin, who looked shocked at how angry she was getting while Trevor simply looked like a kid in a candy store.

"You're a selfish, greedy old… _cunt!_" She continued, hearing Trevor hold in a guffaw. "Cunt! That's what you are, Michael! You threw me under the bus whenever you fucking wanted to and I _still_ kept coming back so you could try and fuck me like you were fucking your mid-life crisis because I thought you actually might have had _half_ the fucking feelings for me that I had for you! You're a good fucking liar, Michael, that's about _it_." She looked around the room, her eyes wide, her heart racing. "And you know what else? You're getting _fatter!_ Do you know how hard it is to enjoy sex when you're being fucking suffocated?! Suffocated, Michael, that's what it fucking felt like and I hope for her sake that Amanda makes you get your fat ass to a fucking gym!"

"Yes!" Trevor roared, clapping his hands together and carelessly. "Yes! _Finally!_" He rushed to her and snaked his arm under her arm and around her waist. "You have _no_ idea how long I've been-"

"And _you!_" She shouted, shoving Trevor off her with as much force as she could, causing him to stumble back. "You're not just your regular, run-of-the-mill, meth-dealing cannibal psycho, oh _no._ You're manipulative, like a fucking 16 year old girl" She stepped forward, poking him in the chest, a look of terror on Trevor's face for some reason. "You think I don't see what you were doing? Giving me drugs? Making me _fucking kill people?_ You are _fucked in the head_ even worse than what we already think you are if you think I'm ever going to be like Wade and Ron, you sneaky, backstabbing little shit! You talk a big game but you're no _fucking_ better or selfless than Michael, you fucking _hypocrite!"_

"Hey!" He shouted back into her face. "I might be all those _other _things, but I am not a fucking hypocrite!"

"_You burned down my apartment because you wanted me to deal drugs._ You threw me under the bus as much as Michael - hypocrite, hypocrite, _hypocrite!"_ She shouted, the viciousness in her voice enough to make him step back again. "I hope you have fun with Ainsley because she's going to leave you just like _everyone else_ and even with your fucking weird tweaker friends, you'll be as sad and _alone_ as you _always_ fucking have been!"

Katherine stepped away, the silence in the room almost painful to the bone, but she wasn't finished, pointing at Lester. "And you? Lester?" She asked, a smile on her face. "You're just an asshole, an entitled, weird, creepy little asshole." She stepped towards the back exit, turning to face them again, gesturing to all of them. "You're _all_ assholes! You lie, you cheat, you betray each other as much as you fucking can because you're all as greedy as each other, and then you have the balls to act like _you're_ holier than thou?" She asked, breathing heavily, quickly glancing between all of them. "You're all fucking lucky you've got Franklin, because without him? You're just a team of fucking _losers _with guns, and no fucking amount of money is _ever_ going to fucking change that."

She took a deep breath, closing her eyes and opening the door with her hand. "Get a new fucking nurse, tell the FIB I topped myself, whatever. I'm out. I'm fucking _done._"

Katherine stormed outside into the back parking lot of the Vanilla Unicorn, finding the nearest car she could and smashing open the window to break in. She heard someone calling for her from the building, but she blocked it out, the blood pumping in her ears as she started the car. For the next few nights she'd stay in a hotel while she got her stuff together. After that, she decided, she was going to Liberty City. And she wasn't going to look back.


	23. A Deathwish

Katherine was ready for Liberty City.

Everything was packed in the back of the stolen car and she had everything she needed to last her for the week long road trip she'd embarked on. She was already passing through Blaine County when she made her first stop, stopping to post on her Life Invader and ignore the several missed calls and messages from Michael. Franklin was the only one she'd spoken to since she lost her cool with the others, and even then, it was mostly one or two word messages.

As she put her phone down and moved to pull the car back onto the road, her phone rang, and while she rolled her eyes as if to assume it was Michael, she checked it anyway. Franklin. Giving a sigh, she swiped it open and put the iFruit to her ear. "Hey," she responded.

"Kat," he began, sounding relieved she'd picked up. "Shit, dog, where you at?"

"Uh, Blaine County, on my way North," she frowned. "Is something wrong? You sound… weird."

"I know you're still mad, dog, I get that, but fuck, I am in some serious ass shit right now."

She raised an eyebrow, shifting in her seat. "What kind of shit? Are you okay?"

"Yeah dog, _I'm_ fine. It's you I'm fuckin' worried 'bout."

"Me?" She asked. "Okay, Franklin? What's going on? Tell me."

"So I got the FIB tellin' me I gotta pop T, right?" He began, Katherine's eyes widening, "and I got this Devin Weston dude tellin' me I gotta pop Mike. Like, no matter what I do, someone's gonna be fuckin' with me after, you know?"

"Devin Weston?" She asked. "Michael's friend? Why does he want _Michael_ dead?" She asked.

"Somethin' bout a movie or somethin', I ain't sure. But he mentioned you, Kat, he knows ya'll is headed for Liberty City right now. Look, can you just…" the voice on the other end paused and gave a long sigh. "I know ya'll is still mad as hell, but can ya'll meet me at Lester's? Please?" He asked. "Jus' till I figure this out. After this, I'll fuckin' pay for you to fly there or some shit."

Katherine was frozen, her eyes set on her rearview mirror. A black car was parked on the road behind her. One that she'd seen at least twice on her journey. Shit. _Shit._ No wonder Franklin sounded a little panicked. "Franklin," she began trying her best to remain calm, fidgeting with her sunglasses. "Someone's following me."

"You sure?" He asked. Katherine gave a nod, connecting her bluetooth headset to her ear and establishing the connection. She placed the phone down on the center console, pulling back onto the road now that she had her hands free. She passed the car, keeping her eyes on the mirror as she did so, and surely enough the car began following her as she went in the direction of Los Santos.

"Positive," she confirmed, her eyes flickering between the road and the mirror. "Shit. _Shit._"

"Aight, dog, stay cool. You got any kinda' weapon on you?"

"Yeah. Pistol."

"Okay. Drive through Los Santos and see if ya'll can lose them. Meet me outside your old place in Chamberlain Hill and call me if they still on you by the time you hit La Puerta." Franklin spoke quickly. "Whatever ya'll do, though, don't stop while they on your tail, cause' they know somethin' up now and they 'gon try and get you."

Katherine felt her stomach tighten from anxiety as she hit the freeway. "Okay. I'll call you if something goes wrong."

"Jus' stay calm, okay, Kat?" He said, doing his best to reassure her. "I gon' see if I can find a way to help you lose 'em, aight? Everything's gonna work out."

"Okay," she nodded to herself as she overtook a car, trying to create even a little distance. "Thanks, Franklin."

* * *

Shit. _Shit._ Of all the days for there to be traffic, today was the last fucking day it was appropriate. Katherine served a corner, trying her best to avoid having to either stop or break a massive road rule. The last thing she needed today was the cops chasing her - she could drive now, sure, but she _definitely_ wasn't up to speed enough to evade the police in a chase.

She winced as she bumped the curb, taking another sharp turn to avoid a red light, the black car still following her. While she was doing a great job at not giving them a chance to grab her, she wasn't doing a great job at actually _losing_ them.

Katherine's phone rang and she almost slapped herself in her rush to press 'answer' on her earpiece. "Franklin?" She asked.

"Where you at right now?" He asked, speaking quickly.

"This very second?" She asked. "Just coming up on Portola Drive," she paused to swerve around a bike, narrowly avoiding it. "Traffic is _crazy,_ Franklin, I don't know if I can keep moving much longer."

"It's alright," he assured her. "Lamar just coming round the corner now. I need you to pull over and get out of the car next to that big ass statue of the horse, okay? Lamar gonna pull up next to you, ya'll gotta go with him."

"Lamar?" She asked. "Shit. Alright. Alright." She quickly grabbed her phone and shoved it in her pocket, setting her eyes on the statue. "Pulling over next to the horse now, he'd better be here or I'm screwed." Katherine pulled the car to a halt next to the meeting spot, grabbing hr pistol from beside her and kicking the door open to shamble out. She quickly glanced backwards, the car that had been following her coming to a stop on the other side of the road, the passenger's side door opening. Katherine could feel her heart in her throat as she gripped the roof of her car. _Shit._

Without warning, the sound of grinding metal and smashing glass overtook the sound of angry horns as a green car slammed into the black one, throwing the people pursuing her aside. Katherine screamed, backing up against her own car as the door of the green one opened, a figure from the driver's seat peering out at her. Lamar. "Get your white ass in the car right fuckin' now!" He shouted, Katherine not wasting a moment to hesitate sprinting and basically leaping into the now smashed up vehicle, yanking the door shut behind her with a slam as he haphazardly reversed to turn around.

"Holy shit," she gasped as she pulled herself upright into the seat. "Holy shit, holy shit, holy _shit._"

"Damn, girl, I ain't even got you naked yet," he laughed as he sped off down Portola drive, passing a red light and narrowly avoiding being t-boned by an oncoming car. "That best be how ya'll gonna fuckin' thank me. Fuckin' Franklin, making a nigga fuck up his ride to pick up some fuckin' white girl," he quickly shot her a glance, running his eyes up and down her figure. "Nigga got himself a fuckin' eclectic taste, I tell you what."

Katherine, who was shaking and gasping for air at this point, was baffled by how calm he was. "What the hell?" Was all she could manage to say.

"Don't go getting me wrong, girl, bet them white boys fuckin' love that tiny ass, big-tittied shit, but I _seen_ the kinda bitches Franklin been fuckin' with, and nigga like him some big ol' fuckin' booty, you know what I'm sayin?"

"I just had two guys follow me through the desert and you want to talk about _this?_" She asked. "Are you serious right now?"

"Well what the fuck else you propose we fuckin' talk about? If I wanted to talk 'bout some pretty white girl gettin' stalked by some creepy ass dudes I'd watch the fuckin' news, girl."

Katherine shook her head, running a hand through her hair once she was sure they were clear of the car that had been following her. "Thanks, though," she sighed. "I mean it. You probably saved my life."

Lamar gave her a side eye as they closed in on Lester's place. "Ey, girl, you thankin' the wrong dude. Franklin's the one who fuckin' woke a nigga up for this."

"It's 3.30 in the afternoon."

"Nigga gotta get his beauty sleep," Lamar commented as he pulled into Lester's driveway, Franklin's car already there. "You think it easy being this fuckin' good lookin'? Full time _job,_ girl."

* * *

"_Here _she is," Lester's voice announced from another room once he let Lamar and Katherine in. Katherine immediately rushed to it, finding Lester and Franklin standing in a room full of computers, laptops and monitors that showed god-knows-what. "In one piece, too," he sneered. "That's a shame."

"Hey, I'm sorry," she snapped, not even looking at him, "build a bridge and get over it." Without another word, she completely passed him, making a beeline for Franklin and, in what seemed to take Franklin and Lester - but not Lamar - by surprise, threw her arms around him. "Thank you," she muttered, her voice shaking as Franklin shrugged and patted her back. It was probably a little awkward, but at this stage, Katherine didn't care. "Thank you, thank you, _thank you._"

"Hey, dog, like I keep sayin', it's nothing."

"Nothing?" She asked as she pulled away. "You saved my life. You had every reason _not_ to call me and check on me but you did anyway."

He shrugged. "Ya'll woulda' done the same for me."

"Yeah," she nodded, a smile on her face. "Yeah, I would have."

Lester cleared his throat. "If you are _done,_ there are much more pressing matters to attend to."

"Of course, right," Katherine agreed. "What's the plan, then?"

"Well, we had two _practical_ options," Lester exhaled, moving to his seat and dropping himself in it without an ounce of grace. "Franklin could either dispose of Michael and keep Devin Weston happy, or Trevor and placate the FIB. Killing Trevor seemed to be the more… _sensible_ option…"

"Don't!" Katherine cut in. "You can't kill Trevor!"

"I thought ya'll fuckin' hated the guy," Franklin reminded her, causing Katherine to shake her head.

"I do, but not enough to kill him," she spoke quickly. "Jesus."

"So we gon' pop that old white dude you been rollin' with?" Lamar asked. This made Katherine audibly gasp.

"No!" She exclaimed. "No, Franklin, don't, please."

"You said it yourself," Lester began, turning to his laptop and typing away. "If anyone's going to turn on us, it's Michael. What, with the history of betrayal…"

"Franklin," she pleaded, her heart racing at a million miles an hour, "please, I _know_ Michael's done terrible things but I'm _asking_ you, please don't hurt him. He wouldn't turn on us, believe me."

"Ya'll sure do trust Mike a lot for someone he fuckin' lied to and tossed to the fuckin' curb," Franklin sighed, shaking his head. "But we ain't killin' neither. That ain't right."

Visibly relieved, Katherine doubled over, resting her hands on her knees. "Oh, thank _fuck!_" She exhaled.

"Obviously, the FIB will be involved if we cross Haines, and as you no doubt experienced today, Katherine, Weston owns a large stake in Merryweather," Lester explained. "Each hates each other, so if we were to lure them into the same place, there'll be an incident."

"Merryweather and the FIB in the same place trying to kill the same people?" Katherine asked. "That has to be the single _worst_ idea I've ever heard."

"You certainly have to have a deathwish to go along with it," Lester agreed, nodding with her.

"But it's the only option we got if we gonna do the right thing," Franklin added before looking to Lamar. "Lamar, homie, I'm gon' need you there with me for backup. You down?"

"Fuck yeah I'm down, nigga!" Lamar laughed. "Anything if it mean we get back at that asshole for not fuckin' payin' us."

Franklin nodded. "Good. Katherine, you stay here with Lester-"

"Oh no, no, _no,_" Lester cut on. "I'm not going to be _anywhere_ near here when this goes down, especially with a big red target on my back like Katherine here." He shook his head. "Find something else for her."

"Fuck, you mean she a fuckin' target now?" Franklin asked.

"Trevor referred to her as 'leverage' for a reason," Lester explained, typing away furiously. "Michael should have known that the second he slept with her, her value as a hostage would skyrocket - and given that both Weston _and_ the FIB know she's been living with you, Franklin, they've probably assumed the same about you two."

"That explains why _someone_ was trying to grab me today," Katherine agreed, "they were going to use me as a bargaining chip to make you kill whoever they wanted."

"So, wait," Lamar cut in, stepping forward with his palms outwards. "You two fuckin' or what?"

Without missing a beat, both Franklin and Katherine turned to Lamar and let out a frustrated "No!" in unison, Katherine rolled her eyes and Franklin letting out an audible groan.

"Okay, okay," Franklin mumbled to himself, crossing his arms and trying to find a solution. "Shit, dog, I guess Lamar gon' have to stay with you and-"

"I'll go with you both," Katherine interrupted. "I'll come with you. That way you have Lamar with you and I can help anyone that gets hurt."

"Oh _hell_ no," Franklin exclaimed. "Kat, ya'll ain't even-"

She cut him off again, her patience wearing thin. "I can fire a gun well enough to defend myself and I think Trevor knows enough about shooting people to be right when he says I'm a good shot." She looked between Franklin and Lamar now, feeling she had to convince them both. "I might not be able to take down many people, but I can keep them off me and help if someone gets hurt."

"You know you might die, right?" Franklin asked. "Like, ain't no one gonna' be able to get you out like before. Ya'll might end up havin' to fend off a buncha' FIB agents on your own. Any of us can die."

"I know."

"You're willing to risk that?" Lester double checked.

"If this goes wrong, I'm a dead woman anyway," Katherine explained. "I'm paying back all those favors."

"Well, then," Lester announced, snapping shut a briefcase with a laptop in it, all the monitors in his den shutting off. "In case this doesn't work out well, it's been good knowing you. Good luck."

"Thanks, dog," Franklin began as they all headed for the door. "We're gonna' fuckin' need it."


	24. Shotgun

_So I've decided to go with the three different endings, which you guys can choose between. They're not all happy but I figured I didn't write all this to limit my imagination like that. You'll be able to make the choices in the next chapter, which means in total I'll be putting up 4 chapters at once. Wow. Such many chapters. Words. Much read._

* * *

There was noise coming from everywhere, Katherine was sure of it. Shouting, gunfire, explosions. She _knew_ it was there, but she couldn't hear any of it, or rather, her brain had blocked out everything except for what was coming through her headset.

She'd been told to stay with Lamar and hold them off from outside. More space for her to hide if she had to, less potential for someone to sneak up on her or flank them. She'd already mapped out a clear route to the inside of the foundry in her head, the only thing more at the ready than her trigger finger being her reaction to a call for medical help. Did Trevor and Michael even know she was there if they needed her? Who knew? Who cared?

"Lamar!" She shouted over her gunfire, the unfamiliar feel of the semi-automatic making the skin on her hands vibrate the same way they do when you clap for an extended amount of time. "Top of that walkway! Sniper!" She ducked down behind the cover, shielding herself from the enemy.

"Ya'll stay the fuck down, girl, I got him," he ordered, Katherine doing as she was told as she listened to the gunfire from Lamar's spot across the way. After a few moments, he withdrew, his weapon silencing. "Got him! Ya'll got some comin' in on your right," he warned, continuing to fire as she raised herself above her cover and did the same.

"Kat," a voice suddenly broadcasted into her earpiece. "Kat, you there?"

"What's up?" She asked, ducking back down into cover, her hand on her earpiece to press it closer so as to better hear Michael.

"Trevor's gone quiet," he began, short breaths following. He was running. "Need you to be ready, just in case." Her stomach sank and she held her breath for a moment. Trevor was quiet. Quiet? Trevor was never quiet. _Ever_.

"Got you," she exhaled. "Let me know and I'll be in there." Shit. _Shit._ She hadn't expected to come out of this without a casualty, but _Trevor_ was the last person she'd expected to go down. The man had enough adrenaline and meth in him to keep him upright for at _least_ an hour after his heart stopped, that she was sure of.

She didn't have time to think, though, the sound of an explosion overhead snapping her out of it to look upwards. A chopper spewed smoke and flame as it spun towards the ground in the distance, devastating its surroundings when it exploded on impact with the side of a hill. Lamar let out a cry of victory, taking cover to reload his weapon, shooting Katherine an excited grin as she watched him before taking her turn to come out of cover and fire at more attackers. She spent the next few minutes in an odd state of calm, focusing purely on doing what she had to in order to get through this and being ready to launch herself into a sprint to the foundry when Michael said so. So in this state of zen was she that she barely even reacted to a bullet driving itself into her arm. Maybe it was shock, maybe it was the adrenaline, but she felt no pain, nothing that was going to stop her from continuing, only giving a little grunt.

"Kat," Michael's voice eventually piped through, Katherine dropping down and tensing her legs as if poised to launch herself off a starting block. "Found him. He's fine."

"Good. Why was he quiet?" She asked about the gunfire. "Damaged headset?"

"Said he needed a 'rest,'" Michael exhaled, the sound of gunfire and Trevor's angry roaring coming through with it. "We're working our way out there now. How're you and Lamar holding up?"

"Fine," she replied, throwing her hand above the barrier and blindly firing at whoever may have been approaching. "But we could use a free set of hands if you can send someone, we've got choppers incoming."

"I got this," Trevor's voice piped up. "You and Slick take the other side, I'll deal with the birdies."

She returned to the battle, not worrying about Trevor any more, directing her attention to Lamar, hoping he hadn't been shot or worse in the time she'd taken the call. He was still going, his expression one of excitement that she wasn't sure she was comfortable with. At least she knew by the way he worked that he'd done this before. Hearing footsteps, she quickly turned, weapon ready to fire, and impressed herself with her restraint when she stopped herself as quickly as she'd hoped to fire. Trevor gave her one of his greasy, sleazy grins, joining her at her side and sharing the same cover she was using. "You got red on you!" He cackled as he glanced at her arm, before he rose above the barrier, firing round after round into an oncoming chopper, leaving Katherine space to focus on the infantry. With another high pitched whirr, the chopper came down, this time landing on a large bulk of the footmen. Trevor gripped her shoulders, pushing her down with him as he took cover, dozens of pieces of shrapnel and old chopper parts flying over their heads and pummelling into the barrier they hid behind.

"Shit!" Katherine screamed, her hands over her head as Trevor laughed, slapping her on the back.

"More where that came from, Kitty Kat," he roared, leaping up once more to continue his devastation of their opponent.

She reloaded her gun, feeling the heat in her hand as she did so before joining him. She couldn't back out or get tired, and she was far from doing either.

* * *

They gathered around the phone, eager for Lester's leads. The waves of men had come to a stop, the last of them all dead, and thankfully for them, everyone they'd wanted to survive _had_.

"Well," the voice began, "I happen to know that Agent Haines is taping a show over on Del Perro Pier, the shooting permit came up immediat-"

"_SHOTGUN!_" Trevor roared, not even hesitating to push past the others and stride to his truck. "Woo! I wanted to ice that fucker since the moment I met him!"

"Alright, alright, alright," Lester's voice mumbled through the phone, the others watching as Trevor climbed into his truck and sped off without another word. "Ah! I got a signal for Mr Harold Joseph's phone over at the BJ Smith Recreation Centre." Franklin stood to move, but Michael held his arm out, gesturing for him to stop.

"No, no, I got him. Let's keep things clear of known associates," Michael said as he took his turn to leave, Franklin, Lamar and Katherine being the last three to remain at the foundry.

"Tao Cheng's credit card just bought a magnum at the Beach Club in Pacific Bluffs," Lester finished, Franklin mounting his bike.

"Aight, I get to go ask him 'bout his punk ass dad."

"And when I find our friend Mr Westin," Lester spat, sounding almost abnormally vicious, "I'll send the coordinates."

"Aight, dog, thanks." He swiped his phone shut, turning to face Lamar and Katherine - who were standing around feeling considerably awkward for two people who just killed at least 20 men each. At _least._ "Ya'll head back to my crib and I'll meet ya'll there. Stick together, 'aight? This might take a while."

"Yeah," Lamar nodded. "Yeah, I got you, nigga." Franklin turned on his bike and sped away, Lamar dropping his shoulders and gesturing for Katherine to follow him to the nearest operational car. "I think I earned myself some fuckin' indo and a nap."


	25. Choice

_Choice time! At the end of this chapter you'll have a choice of three options, all of them different endings. Use the 'select chapter' drop down box to select your choice according to the instructions, and __**not**__ the 'next' button. GTA V gave me lots of inspiration so I'm glad I wasn't crazy wanting to write something to do with it. I'm glad you all enjoyed it, and please don't forget to leave a review or something letting my know what ending you picked!_

* * *

Katherine didn't actually mind the Vanilla Unicorn all that much. Once she got past the insecurities that came with being the only woman there who _wasn't_ being paid to dance for people in the nude, it actually had a bit of charm to it.

Okay, realistically, the fact that Trevor had instituted an apparently limitless tab for the crew as a sort of 'after party' probably helped. After party. Katherine chuckled a little to herself at the bar as she thought of that. An after party to celebrate killing their way out of a jam. How very Trevor. How very… all of them, really.

"Kitty Kat!" Trevor announced, jumping up the steps to the bar with his arms open wide, almost like Katherine's thinking of him had summoned him or something. "It's amatuer night! You should go and shake that money-maker!" Trevor was grinning, unsettling Katherine with how genuine he was being. "I mean, if you want to go _legitimate_ and make an _honest living,_ now's the time to start!"

"Jesus christ, Trevor," she laughed, stirring her drink with the straw and realising she'd now had enough to not actually care what the hell she was drinking anymore. She didn't finish her sentence, just smiling and shaking her head as Trevor ordered himself another beer.

He leaned against the bar, joining her as she took in a view of the club. While Franklin just seemed to be enjoying a beer and some conversation with some of the others who'd come by, Lamar was having the time of his life, throwing an obscene amount of dollar notes at the woman on the pole, screaming all kinds of things that Katherine was glad she couldn't hear. "Come _on_," Trevor whined. "You'd get a stripper name and everything!"

"Trevor," she chuckled, breaking to take a sip of her drink. Whatever it was, it was sweet. "I'm fine for a job, thank you.

"Your loss!" He smiled and without warning reached his beer forward, clinking it against her drink. "Let me know if Michael shows up," he said, pushing off the bar, his eyes fixated on one of the free strippers that paced about on the show floor. "I've got an I'm-sorry-for-wanting-to-skin-you-alive dance lined up for him."

With that, Trevor enthusiastically shuffled to the show floor, immediately stopping to chat with the stripper he'd been eyeing. Katherine rolled her eyes and went back to nursing her drink, trying to drink the pain out of her arm. Taking a bullet out of her _own_ arm, despite her expertise, was much more unpleasant than she'd anticipated and was definitely something she didn't want to do ever again.

For about 15 minutes, Katherine sat where she was, enjoying a few drinks and the music, a happy spectator to the spectacle Lamar was putting on. Eventually, a figure came to her side, leaning on the bar, shooting her a little smile. "Hey."

She smiled at Michael, looking up from her drink, happy to see he'd at least made an appearance. "Hey. Trevor's looking for you."

"When's he not?" He chuckled, nodding to the woman behind the bar as she handed him a scotch. He didn't even have to ask her for it - he'd obviously been here enough to be a 'regular.' Katherine was _not_ surprised by that. "I uh, wanted to talk to you first."

Giving a sigh, Katherine swung the top of the swivel-stool around to face him. "Alright. Let's get this over with," she blurted, the 'few' drinks breaking down her usual filter, "it's only as awkward as we make it."

Raising an eyebrow, Michael continued, a smile on his face. "It's not like that. I wanted to thank you for sticking this out. The other guys," he said, gesturing back to the show floor, "think that goes without saying, but I wanted to make sure you know. You did real good."

"Thanks," Katherine gave a nod and sipped at her drink, watching him carefully.

"Also, I uh, wanted to apologise," he continued, his face getting a little sheepish. Katherine felt a bit sorry for him. How old was Michael? 40 - 45 and still unable to make an apology without getting embarrassed about it? Maybe there was a reason he was still robbing banks. "Look, Kat, I was thinking 'bout what you said and you're right. I treated you like _shit._"

"Michael, you-" she tried to stop him, but he raised his hand, shaking his head.

"No, really. I did. I was using you to make myself feel better about my fucked up problems and I didn't even take two minutes to think about how I was fucking _your_ life right up in the process." He paused, watching her expression. "So, I'm sorry, and I'm gonna do what I can to make shit right for you."

"Last time you said that, I got caught up with the FIB," she joked, Michael smiling, relieved she was taking this well and not throwing her drink in his face.

"I mean it this time."

There was a silence between the two, their eyes meeting with smiles of understanding being exchanged before she spoke. "Thank you, Michael. That means a lot."

* * *

Party was an understatement. That wasn't a party. It was an ordeal. An Incident.

The sun was already rising when they finally left the club, Lamar hanging off the shoulders of Trevor and Franklin, by far the most trashed of the group. "I fuckin' _love_ her, man!" He slurred as the two loaded him into the back of Franklin's car, talking about some stripper - although no one seemed to be able to tell which one specifically.

"_Suuuure_ you do," Trevor agreed as he slammed the door shut, turning to the rest of them. "Gentlemen," he paused, looking to Katherine, "_ma'am, _it has been an _honor_ serving with you!"

"You too, Trevor," Michael laughed, his sunglasses on. "Try to stay out of prison."

"Oh," he growled, "I'll be in the _ground_ before that happens!"

Franklin rolled his neck as he opened the driver's door to his car. "Aight', dog, I'll see ya'll later. Kat," he looked to her. "Ya'll want a ride?"

"_Nonsense,"_ Trevor roared, stumbling a bit. "_I_ can take the lady home _without_ the screaming drunk in the back!"

"Come on, Kat," Michael cut in. "I'm under the limit and I can swing by yours if you'd like to get home in one piece."

Katherine looked between the three. Who was going to take her home?

* * *

_To select __**Franklin**__, select the chapter named __**Homecoming.**_

_To select __**Trevor,**__ select the chapter named __**Ride.**_

_To select __**Michael, **__select the chapter named __**Royals.**_


	26. Royals (Michael Ending)

Katherine climbed into Michael's car, which looked significantly different compared to what it was last time she'd been in it. "Excuse the… everything," he commented, his voice sounding a little deflated. "Jimmy 'borrowed' the car."

"Right," she nodded, clicking her seatbelt and watching Trevor messily speed out of the parking lot, narrowly avoiding another oncoming car. Katherine had never been more glad to turn down a ride in her life.

Michael waited for Franklin to move onto the road before pulling out of the parking lot himself, his sunglasses reflecting the morning glare. "So," he began as he made a turn. "Tell me about this music thing."

"Tell you about it?" She asked. "Not much to _tell,_ really."

"Well, what do you do? Sing? Play violin? What?" He asked. "I'm curious."

"Guitar. Well, I sing, too," Katherine stuttered, suddenly nervous. She didn't really like talking about her music. It embarrassed her a bit. "But I used to play around with other stuff, like making beats, that sort of thing." She glanced at him, realising she'd been a bit vague. "Er, you know. On a computer."

"Oh, right," he nodded. "So if you already know how to _do_ all that, why do you wanna go to college?" He asked. "Ain't that a bit of a waste of time?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. I figured it's a start. I don't really know where _else_ to start."

"Why not just start making stuff?" He asked. "I mean, hey, not to toot my own horn," a smile appeared on his face and Katherine knew exactly where this was going, "but I didn't go to college and look at me now. I'm making _movies_."

Katherine returned the smile, watching as the house appeared in the distance. "You have connections. It's different."

Michael was silent for a moment as he pulled the car up on the street in front of the house, where Franklin was already hauling Lamar inside. "If it's a question of connections," he began , turning to watch her, "consider it taken care of."

"What?" Katherine opened the door, stepping a leg out. "I'm not following."

"Don't you worry," he assured her. "I'll take care of it."

* * *

It was a _great_ day on Vespucci beach.

Katherine had been there before, of course, but had mostly stuck to the pavement and markets. She'd never actually enjoyed the beach itself, and as she made felt the sand shift beneath her feet, she wondered why she'd been avoiding it.

In the last two years, she'd seen a lot of success. Her music career was going well - sure, she wasn't selling out stadiums yet, but that had never been her scene, anyway. She was known well enough to be getting a serious amount of airtime on Mirror Park Radio with her manager working on having her do some shows in Liberty and Vice City.

Of course, none of this was done under her real name. She'd been smart enough to follow through on some advice offered to her by an old associate and change her name, become someone else. Samantha Del Carrara. As far as anyone else was concerned, Katherine O'Brien died in that apartment fire.

Her eyes settled on the view of Del Perro Pier in the distance and she smiled. Now _that_ would make a great Snapmatic picture. She had close to 10k followers now, her manager told her that was good news for marketing. 'Keep it updated and active,' her manager had told her. 'Fans eat that shit up.'

Turning her back on the view, she raised her iFruit up, making sure the vision of the pier was in the background and raising her hand to create that well-known 'v' shape with her fingers. Peace. Love. Ironic coming from someone who had a kill count that was probably somewhere in the 50's.

And then she saw someone that made her freeze before she could hit 'snap.'

A small jetski wharf floated on the water's edge, a young woman straddling a ski, reaching over to slap a chubby man in the stomach. They were young, probably close to her age, the jetski instructor shouting something about safety at them. It wasn't them that had caught her eye, though, but the figure that stood on the wharf as it bobbed in the water. He was wearing sunglasses, but she knew he was watching her. She could feel it.

The last time she'd seen Michael was when he'd dropped her back home after Trevor's 'after party' two years ago, and the last time she'd _heard_ from him was when he put her in touch with her manager. After that, the calls and messages stopped - although the 'investment funds' hadn't. Katherine was meant to think the payments were Michael's way of making it all up to her, to help her chase her own dream, but she knew better than that. If he kept her happy and busy with her own projects, she wouldn't come knocking on his door. Hush money. He paid for the name change, he paid for the manager and recordings, he paid her to keep quiet and not send an email to Amanda - not that Katherine had ever planned to, although it had crossed her mind during her more angry moments.

Just like before, he abandoned her, thinking that giving her money this time would somehow absolve him. Being prepared to actually _die_ for someone never leaves you, he should have known that. He probably _did. _Hell, even half her music that she was making at _his_ cost had weird undertones about older men and lives of crime to it. Her manager said this made her 'edgy without trying.' She was right, Katherine didn't have to try. It came naturally.

And as she watched him, her mouth a little agape, her eyes drifted to the two young people on the jetskis, screaming at each other and, to some extent, their instructor. _Those_ were his kids. They weren't the kids she'd pictured in her mind, small and infantile. Okay, maybe they were still a little infantile, but she'd imagined children, not people her own age.

That's when it hit her and came clear. If Michael had done right by her, he would have been doing wrong by his kids. By his wife. She was hurt, but maybe she was wrong to think this was all about her. Maybe, just like everything else that had happened, this was bigger than two people.

She shot him a small smile and gave a little wave, holding his gaze as he returned it, neither of them saying a word to each other, doing nothing to indicate that either was more than somebody they used to know.

Katherine lifted her phone again, resuming her pose and pressing the 'snap' button. With a click, the camera took the photo, and without giving him another glance, she turned and continued her walk towards the pier, hands and eyes focused on uploading the image.

If she dwelled, she'd turn into the kind of person Michael was when they'd met.


	27. Homecoming (Franklin Ending)

Lamar had drank so much that getting him settled for the night was as simple as dropping him on the couch once they were inside.

"He smells…" Katherine tried to find the word. "He smells like _something._"

"Maybe we shoulda' left his ass in the bath," Franklin suggested, dropping himself on the couch adjacent to his passed out best friend and smiling up at Katherine. "So what you gonna do now?"

"Sleep."

He gave a laugh, shaking his head. "Nah, dog, I mean what you gonna do now this shit's all over?"

Katherine gave a shrug, dropping herself down beside him, her eyes watching Lamar, who was out cold. "Don't know. College, maybe? Haven't thought much about it."

"Well, where were you gonna go after ya'll lost your shit with everyone?" He asked. "Maybe ya'll can do that."

"Liberty City…" she nodded. "There was a music school there. Guess I try and get out of the state this time. What about you?" She asked.

"Me? Eh, just gonna take it one day at a time," he gave a shrug, leaning back and sinking into the couch, the sleepless night catching up with them a little. "Maybe keep playin' the stocks. I got everything I need here."

Katherine had been sure she was going to say something to that, but she was so tired that she forgot to open her eyes when she blinked, soon falling asleep on the couch, unsure if Franklin was still there or not.

When she woke up a few hours later, her body was warm. More on one side than the other, but she was entirely comfortable against the… she thought it was a couch, but unless the couch was breathing, she was wrong. She pried open her eyes. She'd fallen asleep on Franklin. That, or she'd cuddled up to him in her sleep. Regardless, the prospect of either wasn't as… uncomfortable as she thought it'd be. It was actually nice.

But that wasn't them. That wasn't what Frankin and Katherine were. At least she thought, anyway - and if he woke up like this, he'd… well, he might not find it as nice as she did. Would he? She wasn't sure, but better safe than sorry. Slowly, she pulled herself upright, swinging herself off the couch and heading to her room to grab her things.

She's never really thought about him like that. He'd always been there for her, which was more than she could say for most people - actually, now that she was thinking about it, Franklin actually seemed to _care_ about her without expecting anything back. He was, though, a good guy like that. She might have felt a little bit of something when she saw him again at Lester's, something she'd written off as relief that she was alive to see him, but she didn't want to dwell on it. She had to start driving to the airport.

As she cruised down the highway, the last of her belongings packed away into a single suitcase, Katherine felt… off. Maybe it was because it was so quiet in the car. For the first time in a while, there was no one talking to her, not even on the phone. The radio was on, but it wasn't a song she recognised - somehow her radio had been set to Blue Arc.

Katherine parked the car in the short-term parking, knowing fully well she wasn't going to be coming back to get the car. As she stepped out, her pocket vibrated, two short buzzes. A text message from someone. She swiped her phone open. Franklin.

'_Good luck in LC, homie. U gon b great. Call if u need n e thing.'_

She smiled at the message, hauling the suitcase out of the bag. Franklin was so good to her, always offering to help, never asking for her to return any favors. And he did it all because it was the right thing to do, probably. Maybe Michael had been right, maybe they would have made a good couple. But that wasn't how it was meant to be. He wasn't right for her. No, Katherine was destined for guys who were kind of jerks, the kind who were looking for a trophy or something. She'd find a lot of those in Liberty City - but she wouldn't find many Franklins, doing the right thing _because_ it was the right thing.

And then she froze.

Why the _hell_ did she feel like she only deserved jerks? Why _couldn't_ she find herself a Franklin? Sure, they were hard to find, but…

They weren't hard to find, or at least they weren't for her. She already _found_ one.

Katherine threw her door open, hurling her suitcase back inside and rushing into her car, revving the engine and leaving the parking lot at a dangerous speed, crashing through the ticket-gates and speeding off down the highway. She was such an idiot. Such a fucking _idiot._ Franklin was right there the whole time, probably the closest goddamn thing to a best friend she had. He'd risked his life for her, he'd always been there to help her, he _let her move into his house._ And he never asked her for one thing in return.

And Katherine almost left him. And he _still_ just wanted the best for her. No one _ever_ wanted the best for _her._ No one. Not even Michael really did, he just kind of said he did but really meant that he wanted to feel better about something that was his fault.

She drove like a complete idiot, making it to Vinewood Hills in almost record time, climbing out of her car and slamming the door behind her, running to the front door and frantically buzzing at the doorbell.

When the door opened, Franklin raised an eyebrow. "Aw shit, dog, you forget somethin'?" He asked. Katherine nervously it her lip, shaking her head.

"I'm an idiot," she replied, stepping past him to get inside, continuing as Franklin shut the door behind her. "I just… look," she tried her best to form her thoughts into a sentence, to assemble something from words that flew around in her head at a million miles an hour. "Helping me out, letting me move in, everything you've done for me… why?" She asked. "Can you just tell me _why_ you've done so much for me? Please?"

"You alright?" He asked, an eyebrow raised. "Somethin' happen?"

"Franklin, please. Just tell me."

Franklin seemed confused, but he shrugged, his expression casual. "Just the right thing to do, homi-" he didn't get to finish, Katherine grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him to her, closing the distance between them and bringing her lips to his. At first, he seemed a bit taken-aback, his arms at his sides, palms outstretched, and Katherine worried that she'd made a bad judgement call. However, it wasn't long until he finally reacted, one of his hands finding the small of her back and the other running up her jaw, brushing back to the nape of her neck as her arms snaked up over his shoulders.

That was all she needed to hear.

* * *

"I ain't mad at you."

Katherine looked up, her eyes a little watery, her lip quivering in the back room of their car dealership. It had been two years of work for them, buying the dealership, establishing a business that was at _least_ a little more reputable than Simeon's. Two whole years, and Kat was throwing it all away - or at least it felt like that.

They'd tried, of course, to go legitimate. To make a clean break. Starting the dealership was one thing, but Lamar was another. Franklin understandably had to look out for his best friend, but that didn't come without its difficulties. Lamar and his Apache blood was a double edged sword - they couldn't have hoped for a more passionate or dedicated associate, but he was unpredictable, unable to stay away from gang life. He lived for it. Katherine thought it might be the rush that got him, but Franklin chalked it up to Lamar being a 'dumbass.'

So, naturally, over the course of time, the shop had become a front for some more… illicit activities and despite their initial protests, Katherine and Franklin eventually got wrapped up in it. Drugs and stolen cars, mostly, but Katherine made time to stitch up Lamar and anyone who might have been rolling with him. It really seemed like this was as clean as they were going to get, but Katherine didn't mind, and as far as she could tell, neither did Franklin.

Franklin smiled, leaning in and taking her face in his hands, planting a kiss on her brow. "I ain't mad. Why would I be mad?"

"I… I just," her voice quivered. "This changes things. Franklin, I can't do this… when things are like this, with the drugs and the shootings and…" she trailed off.

"What, ya'll gonna leave me?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. She shook her head.

"No. Why would I do that? I just… I really don't know what to do. But I can't do it like this."

Franklin watched her, his face serious, a little frown to it - something Katherine knew meant he was thinking. "Well," he exhaled, "guess we gotta find a way out, then. We can just go," he suggested. "Go to Vice City or somethin'. Or Liberty City. Ya'll always wanted to go there."

"And what?" She laughed. "Have whoever Lamar's pissed off _this_ week chase us out there? Franklin, it's not about Los Santos, it's about having to look over my shoulders every 15 minutes. We can't do that anymore, and if someone comes looking for us and we aren't expecting it…"

There was a silence as Katherine wiped her eyes, Franklin reaching out to squeeze her shoulder. They sat there for a moment, solitary but together, Katherine feeling that they should have felt a lot happier than they were.

"What if we make 'em think we dead?" He asked. Katherine blinked in disbelief.

"What?"

"I'm serious, Kat, we can…" he let out a long sigh. "We can do what Mike did. Make it look like we dead. Change our names. Get out of Los Santos."

Katherine opened her mouth to argue, but paused when she realised how stupidly logical that sounded. It was the opposite of anything Franklin would want to do, which made her realise how all the more serious he was - it was entirely logical, and she struggled to think of any other options. "You're… you're serious?" She stammered. "You'd do that?"

"Hey," he smiled, "what we always sayin' bout doin' the right thing?"

Katherine held his gaze, a smile appearing on her face. It didn't take much for Franklin to convince her. It never did. "What about Lamar?" She asked, her voice calmer now.

"Girl, fuck Lamar!" He laughed. "This my fuckin' baby mama we talkin' bout."

Katherine let out a laugh, her smile widening and becoming more genuine as Franklin reached for his phone. "Okay, that is the first and _only_ time you ever get to call me that."

"Uhuh, and that's the first and only time ya'll forget the pill, ain't that right?" He gave a smirk, looking up from his phone contacts as he pressed the 'call' button to watch her reaction, giving a chuckle and putting the phone to his ear when she lifted her middle finger to him and mouthed 'fuck you'.

"Yo," Franklin spoke. "Mike, ey, it's me, gotta ask you a favor, dog." Franklin glanced at Kat, who watched intently as the man on the other end spoke. "Nah dog, ain't that. We gotta get out, dog," he explained, standing up and stretching his back. "I fuckin' mean _out, _like what you and Amanda did in Yankton. ...Well, not the same, but like that, you know? Fakin' our deaths, that shit." Katherine could hear the murmur of another voice on through the phone, the murmur getting louder, outraged. "Kat's pregnant, dog," he finally said, the murmur turning silent.

After a solid 10 seconds, the voice murmured away again, Franklin nodding along. "Aight, dog, thanks. I'll see you then." He paused, giving another nod. "Yeah, I'll tell her. Thanks." Hanging up his phone, he looked to Katherine, who was anxiously twisting the hem of her singlet as she watched.

"Well?" She asked.

"He on his way over now, gonna see what he can do." He gave her a tiny smile. "Told me to congratulate you."

She eyed him carefully, watching his expression. "Are you as scared as I am right now?" She asked. "Because I'm really scared." Franklin shook his head, setting his phone down.

"I ain't scared. I'm gonna be brave as you need me to be."


	28. Ride (Trevor Ending)

"So you're seriously going to stay here?" Trevor asked as she drove straight over a curb, Katherine jostling in her seat.

"What's wrong with that?" She asked, glancing at him as he swerved to miss another vehicle.

"Nothing _wrong _with it," he began, glancing at her a little, "but I think Slick's starting to get the wrong idea."

She gave a blink, staring at him now, bracing herself as he drove in his usual manner by holding onto the dashboard and the door. "Wrong idea?" She asked. "I'm pretty sure Franklin and I are-"

"For _now,_" he cut in, "but now that you're off Michael's… now that you're off _Michael,_ you're an available woman again! And he's going to start expecting…"

"Oh no," Katherine stammered. "Oh no, no, no, no! No, Franklin… Franklin's not like that. At all." She felt herself jolt forward again as he came to a halt in front of the house in time to see Franklin haul Lamar inside.

Trevor exhaled, turning to face Katherine, opening the glove compartment as he did so and tossing her a box of something. She inspected the packaging. Oxy. "Well," he sighed, "that's a darn shame, I just aquired a _beautiful_ new trailor not far from _mine,_ but," he shrugged. "You know what you want. Take that for the road," he pointed to the box, "and come see me for _any_ of your pharmaceutical needs."

* * *

After two years living in Blaine County, Katherine had one important life message under her belt: Blaine County was Trevor Phillips country, and Trevor Phillips was _always_ in control.

The oxy had been what got her out there in the end, not Trevor's malicious predictions of Franklin's behavior. Trevor had her hooked again, and after a while she was more than willing to move out there permanently as one of his employees if it meant a free and steady supply. She was more than away of what he was doing, but by the time it all clicked with her, she wasn't allowed to see Franklin and Michael anymore except when he told her she could. Trevor Phillips was good at his game. Very good.

So, Katherine spent her time in her own trailer in Trevor Phillips country, sitting in the sun, taking oxy and playing her guitar. She had other responsibilities, of course. This was a business Trevor was running, and she was a key employee. Her official title was secretary - she kept their contacts in order, she made sure everyone was by to pay up when they had to and kept her ear to the ground enough to give Trevor information he needed about any competition - not that there _was_ a lot of it unless they had a deathwish.

She didn't mind her existence there, though. It was simple, surrounded by honestly, and for what it was worth, Trevor was a good friend, along with Wade, Chef and Ron. She was, of course, in a position that meant she still had to deal with Ainsley - or 'Trevor's Trailer Wife' as she'd dubbed herself in order to establish her position amongst the rednecks and tweakers - but Katherine managed, getting by knowing that Ainsley didn't mean shit to Trevor, despite what he might say to placate her. Trevor may have had his steady woman, but he was still Trevor Phillips, visiting his secretary's trailer to have his way with her on the side. He was the boss, after all. Both Ainsley and Katherine were, in all honestly, miserable deep down, but at least Katherine found some contentment with it.

A depressed blonde wife and a secretary bouncing on his boy. Everyone was living the Trevor Phillips dream.


End file.
